


As I Wait

by PeachyWoNiu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Character Turned Into a Dog, Emotionally Repressed Dean Winchester, Falling In Love, Forbidden Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Monster of the Week, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2020-11-23 20:47:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 49,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20895869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachyWoNiu/pseuds/PeachyWoNiu
Summary: Avoiding his emotions is something that Dean has done for most of his life; he was a Winchester after all. After years of stolen glances and confusing thoughts, he is forced to face the urges that he has repressed when he comes face to face with them on a hunt. But will he allow himself to be free to feel? Or will his father's conditioning smother any hope of true happiness?A monster of the week type story that takes the boys through some tough realizations and gets them to face certain truths they would have much rather kept ignoring.So far they've tackled a monster in Diablo, Washington, investigated mysterious deaths in Ashland, Oregon, and gotten a call from a hunter from Dean's past about a creature in Baton Rouge.





	1. Part One - Diablo

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure what time this takes place in lol, before season 13, but after season 8 I think.  
This is my first time posting on this website! I am excited for constructive feedback! :3

** Part One - Diablo **

Present Day

My eyelids stuck together like tacky, half dried glue. Or at least my drunk mind thought so. Okay…_super_ drunk mind. Blinking through the tilting haze that obfuscated the room, I focused in on the person that had caught my attention and drawn me out from the bottom of my heavily fingerprinted whiskey glass. Recognition cleared my muddled thoughts as blue eyes found my own.

Offering up a lazy smile I lifted my glass limply, tipped it in his direction, and took a deep swig calling, “How’s it goin’ Cas?”

“Hello, Dean…” the angel replied quietly.

Ignoring his pitying eyes, I took another drink, albeit a smaller sip this time, and asked with over-the-top boisterous frivolity, “Care to join me? The night is young and so are we. I mean, in angel terms you can’t be that – “

“Dean.”

I shut my lips tightly as an uncomfortable knot wound deep in the numbed spaces of my gut. Nerves? No. I was a Winchester. I didn’t get nerves. Trying to shrug off the sting of hearing my name said so kindly, I adjusted my position on the warped plastic seat at the measly motel dining room table. The loud and sharp creak that accompanied my movements punctuated the awkward tension left in the air like a hot knife through room temperature butter.

Clearing my throat, I downed the last of my whiskey and said, “C’mon Cas…lighten up.”

“You wouldn’t want me to do that Dean your…your eyes would burn out of their sockets.” He said, brows creasing in confusion and worry. “You know that.”

Railroad logic. It nearly made me laugh out loud it was so familiar; welcome. But it ended up turning into a sort of strained, mirthless chuckle. It reminded me that I hadn’t slept in over 38 hours. Running a hand over my worn face I muttered, “Yeah…yeah I guess I do.”

Damn angel killing my buzz. I reached for the half empty bottle of cheap liquor store Louisiana Blue, hoping to drown out the feather-brained nut, but at the last moment felt it tugged out from under my fingertips. Uttering a grunt of indignation, I followed the bottle with my eyes to Cas’ side. His figure seemed to be doing a sort of bending back and forth motion like he was standing on the deck of a boat. Not of his own volition of course. I imagined my blood toxicity level had something to do with it. Immediately I felt my stomach lurch as the acrid taste of bile boiled up the back of my throat. I braced myself against the stained, second hand table as I muscled the vomit back down.

Cas took the opportunity to close the distance between us.

Setting the bottle down on the Pepto-Bismol pink counter of the tiny kitchenette out of my reach, he sat in the only other chair opposite me, scraping the worn wooden legs along the linoleum. Damnit. Why did he have to give me that freaking look of his? It always reminded me of Sammy, when he’d try and get me to open up about the particularly gruesome stuff I’d seen with Dad on the road in the early days.

“C’mon man, just drop it…” I said weakly.

The strength and cheer that had been fueling my facial expression before seeped away quickly. He didn’t comment. Didn’t say anything really, just stared at me. Like he already knew what I was going to say; what I was thinking. It twisted my insides. Pursing my lips, I turned my body away from him unconsciously. Or consciously. Who the hell knew? Rubbing at my jaw with my free hand I glanced to the angel to see if he’d noticed my weird behavior.

If he did, I couldn’t tell.

“So, uh…what, you here to give me a pep talk? Tell me I’m doing such a great fuckin’ job?”

Again, silence. I avoided looking into his eyes unsure of whether he would be able to read my thoughts any more than he probably already had. Clenching my jaw, I kept my gaze trained on the cheap dime store shaded lamp on the low dresser across the room and asked, “Did Sam send you? I told him I’m fine, I – “

“What happened Dean?”

Scoffing, I glanced over at him, now hoping that he would just read my mind and get it over with. But instead I felt my insides twist at the look of focused concern on Cas’ face. His dark brows were drawn together tightly, wrinkling his forehead up to his hairline. Mostly it was his eyes that got me. Normally if he was trying to get information out of someone or something, they would be slightly narrowed making them crease around the edges. It always made the blue of his irises look even darker. But right now, they were wide open, bright with curiosity and ready to take in all of what I had to say.

“Cas I…I don’t…I…” I stuttered; my voice sounded so small.

Holding my gaze, he placed his hand on the table and said firmly, “I want to help.”

His attention was making me feel claustrophobic. But it still didn’t stop his words from making me feel…important. Something I wasn’t used to having outside of Sammy. Maybe it was the drink, or the fact that I’d just gone through my own personal hell. Maybe a little of both, but I suddenly felt the walls that I’d worked so hard to hold up all day crumbling down. Letting out a shaky breath, I ran my ands through my hair and allowed my eyes to fill with tears. Looking even more worried, Cas dragged his chair closer and pressed his palm firmly onto my shoulder like he always did. I leant into the familiar strength his silent touch offered me.

Fighting for control over my trembling lower lip, I nodded, a signal for him to do his angel thing. Thankfully he understood. Lifting his middle and pointer fingers up to my forehead, he muttered encouragingly, “Start from the beginning.”

Everything fell away in a flash of white.


	2. Diablo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean arrive in Diablo and start investigating mysterious disappearances.
> 
> Edit: I updated this chapter, and had a hard time matching up the formatting of the new with the old. Sorry if it's distracting!

Six Days Earlier

The sun streamed through the thin curtains over the single pane window, stinging my sensitive eyes like someone was holding a cut onion under them. Squinting, I grumbled under my breath and slowly sat up in bed. My brother Sam moved so his tall frame mercifully blocked the offending rays from searing into my retina and tossed something onto the covers next to me. It thudded and bounced against my hand. The sweet, sweet waft of whatever bacon delicacy he’d brought me as a greasy hangover cure instantly making my mouth water and giving me a boost of energy.

“Sammy, you beautiful bastard.”

With a roll of his eyes, he went over to his bed and sat heavily. He looked tired despite not having drank as much as me last night. 

“You get much sleep?” I asked casually, making sure not to look at him directly. 

Glancing at me he cleared his throat and rubbed at his face. Chuckling a small bit, he muttered, “After what we saw? No…not a lot.” 

I grunted in agreement, the subtle throbbing in my head reminding me how many beers I’d downed last night after finally getting back to the hotel room. We were in Malta, Montana chasing down a witch that had been kidnapping children from the Fort Belknap Reservation and harvesting specific organs from each of them to fulfil a spell. Not sure exactly what the end goal was, and I didn’t really want to know. 

Rubbing at my nose I cleared my throat and asked, “You got any new leads? I wouldn’t mind putting this town as far in the rearview mirror as we can by tonight.” 

As he grabbed up his laptop and started typing away, I started unwrapping my wake-up call. It was mouthwatering; dripping in oil and cheese. 

“Hey, check this out.” Sam called after I’d taken a few bites. “Paper from Whatcom County mentions something about what the locals are calling ‘The North Cascade Vanishings’.” 

“_Spooky_.” I mumbled sarcastically, most of my attention focused on unwrapping my wake-up call. “Most of those hippies up there like to romanticize anything they can since there’s nothing but rain and weed to entertain them. Repressed bastards…”

Sam rolled his eyes and continued, “No, listen to this: ‘Three workers have gone missing over the past two weeks. Eyewitnesses say they last saw them wandering into the forest in the middle of their shift. One, native Diablo Washingtonian Floyd Rees, says that the site manager said something about hearing his little girl screaming for help shortly before running off.’ And get this, I did some digging and I found other disappearances going back decades. Not all at once like right now but Dean, this sounds like a case to me.”

He was right. That did sound like a case.

Taking a large bite out of my double bacon and egg burger I muttered in agreement, “Yeah that does sound like a song we tap to.”

“Okay, so let’s pack up. We could get there in about a day if we take shifts driving.”

I nodded in agreement, swallowing my mouthful of burger. With a grin I called, "Hey, you think we'll see Bigfoot up there this time?" 

Trying not to choke while laughing at the look on my brother's face, I finished off my food and started gathering up our t-shirts, flannels and guns. We hit the asphalt less than thirty minutes after I woke up. Which might have been a mistake considering how much I stunk of beer and sweat. Should have showered first, but as I told Sam, if the windows were rolled down it wouldn’t be too noticeable. And besides, it was a warm June, and even if we were going to the perpetually chilly Pacific Northwest, keeping them open overnight would still feel refreshing.

The drive was uneventful, filled with the usual dulcet tones of the greats. While I drove, Sam fiddled with his laptop, going over all of the details that he’d managed to download before we left the motel. Somewhere on the edge of western Montana, his computer finally died and he pulled out some of the books on monsters that were our tried and true over the years. As he reached back to the rear seat to grab a stray volume, I caught a look at the back of his hair. It was all tangled and matted, like he’d slept on it rough and didn’t bother maintaining it like he normally did. 

“Dude, comb the back of your hair,” I laughed. “It’s a disgrace.” 

As he sat back in his seat, he ran a hand over said offending spot and chuckled, “Jess used to say the same thing…” 

The words died off as he said them. His face lost some of the smile it had had before. I tried not to glance at him out of the corner of my eye, but I think he noticed. I immediately looked away again. Jessica – his girlfriend from college. Considering it had been so many years since…since she burned, I thought that Sam had accepted her death. Stupid of me to assume that that also meant he was well-adjusted about it. How could he be? She’d been murdered. Horribly. Just like our Mom. 

His breathing hadn’t changed all that much. He looked mostly calm aside from the tension in his brow. I kept my eyes glued on the road after that. Guilt started to creep into my thoughts, causing my hands to tighten around the steering wheel until my knuckles were white. 

Eventually I tried to ask awkwardly about it, because I knew I should. But before I got out two words he cut in with a sad smile. 

“It’s fine, Dean.” 

I couldn’t see his face because I refused to break eye contact with the road. Had to admit that I didn’t really have a stomach for this kind of conversation. My great gift from dear old Dad. 

“Listen, Sammy, if you want to talk about her-” 

“There’s nothing to talk about. She’s gone. Has been for a long time.” 

I sucked in a thin stream of air through my lips before carefully picking my next words, “Okay…well, I’m here if you need me.” 

He made a sort of quiet acknowledgement before picking up one of the ancient monster manuals and stuffing his nose inside. Subtly I started unclenching my tense body. But it was difficult. All I could think about now was Jess. Even after all these years, a small part of me still felt like her getting killed was my fault. 

Sure, it had been the yellow eyed demon Azazel’s lackey. And yeah, it had all been part of an elaborate plot to drive Sam back to hunting. But I had never let go of that small part of me that said I was to blame. After all, I was the one that came and asked for help finding Dad. Hell, Jess didn’t even want him to go. She was worried about that interview of his. It was a miracle Sam didn’t hold that more over my head. He should. Had every right to. 

I could have let my mind spiral into darker and darker places, but I reminded myself that we had a job to do. 

A little while later, I pulled the Impala over for a refuel. Sam didn’t wait long to make himself scarce. I don’t think he was doing it on purpose. He genuinely just wanted to get some snacks. But as I watched his back disappear inside the store, I let out a long breath and rubbed my tired face with my hand. 

“Go talk to him asshole,” I muttered to myself as I angrily unhooked the gas pump. “Don’t be a shitty big brother. Make sure he’s okay.” 

Leaning against the trunk of the car with my arms folded and my head down, I waited for the tank to fill up. I didn’t end up chasing after him though. I couldn’t. Didn’t know how. I wasn’t good at that kind of thing. Not like he was. Bobby always said he was the more emotionally mature of the two of us. 

“Fuck,” I grumbled, at a loss. 

“What? Card not working?” 

I jumped at Sam’s sudden appearance. He stood holding an armful of chips and drinks, the innocent question wrinkling his forehead. Just like that, Jess was gone. Once again, safely tucked wherever he kept the memory of her. 

Fiddling with the keys in my hands I said, “No, not that. Just uh…just thinking about…about how my eyes are getting tired and that means you get to drive the next leg at your grandma speeds.” 

Smirking in mock disbelief he shook his head and held up a free hand. I tossed the keys at him which he caught deftly. As he got into the driver’s seat, I let my own smile fall. _Later_, I told myself. _I’ll talk to him later_. 

Most of eastern Washington state passed by in darkness. I took the time to take in a few hours shut eye. And when the sun was peaking up over the horizon between the gargantuan mountains, we were about an hour outside of our destination, snaking along Highway 20 east and I took back control of the wheel.

“Never realized there was more than one type of green.” I commented, mostly to myself, but Sam smiled as he looked out the window.

No matter where you turned, there was nothing but plants. All lush and full after drinking up copious amounts of spring rain over the past few months. And each was a different hue than the last. There was even the brief flash of something dark purple and fern like as we rode past what must have been our twentieth waterfall. What was most impressive was the fact that snow still clung stubbornly to the high peaks, and even dotted some of the valleys between the tightly packed mountains that only saw sunlight for a brief part of the day.

Sam informed me that at the edge of this town, Winthrop, was the last gas station around for the next sixty miles until we got to Diablo. I noted the sign above the two pumps written in fading old west font that read ‘Last Chance General Store’ as I pulled alongside. Grinning to myself, I caught the gaze of a small group of silver haired bikers leaning against their rides, eating their snacks and appreciating the beauty of the ’67 Impala. I smirked with pride and gave them a knowing nod as I turned off the engine.

The joints in my legs popped in relief as I emerged from the driver’s side. Rolling my shoulders, I took in the fresh mountain air. Further west the peaks loomed, promising that our journey through them was about to be narrow and winding. 

“It’s like the Lord of the Rings out here!” I grinned, spinning on my heel so I could get a full panoramic view of the surrounding wildlife.

Sam raised his brow at my exclamation but ultimately ignored my comment. Instead, as I moved to start filling up the tank, he tugged out a notebook that he’d been scribbling in while we drove. Slapping it on the top of Baby he started, “I think we should hit up Floyd Rees’ place first seeing as how he’s the only eye witness so far that thinks something’s wrong. We need more information about what's going on.”

“What do the other workers think about their compadres adios-ing?”

“Not sure, no one else has talked. But I did look into it and a couple of the people that are gone have some domestic disturbances and assaults on their record, so they fit with previous M.O.’s.”

"No one cries for a douche bag." 

"Exactly." 

Thinking back to the car ride, I thought of all that time spent digging into old reports from the area and said, “Right, so disappearances go back almost eighty years. First one in what, 1934? A, uh – a Donald Vankeaulin?” 

“Yeah. Which was no great tragedy according to the Seattle police records at the time. Guy was a real piece of work." 

I nodded in understanding, starting the gassing up process as he continued. 

"Missing people goes on like that with one every decade. Usually lowlifes. Until we get to two weeks ago when three workers from the local construction site go missing one after the other.” Sam jumped in shaking his head.

“Anything special about the land they’re working on? Indian burial? Old hoodoo site? Weird shrine nearby?”

“No, just uh, a regular re-vamp of the local dam that the town was built for.”

“What do you mean built for?”

“Well it’s a company town, owned by Seattle City Light, same as a lot of them around here actually.” Sam explained, motioning toward the mountains.

"I guess that explains why there are such tiny-ass towns in the ass-crack of nowhere," I said thoughtfully, removing the pump from the gas intake. Screwing in the cap, I continued, “Okay, so the only thing we got is a handful of recently missing people. We should head to the motel in Diablo and get our research in order before questioning the locals.”

Looking a little dower, he shut his notebook with a light click. I asked silently what his deal was with the quirking of my brow. Letting out a breath he explained, “There’s uh…there’s no motel. The only way to stay around here is to either camp or rent a house.”

Not my most favorite past time. Especially not when there were so many things out in the wilderness that went bump in the night. 

“Okay, so camping huh?” I said, clapping my hands together with faux cheer. 

His lips drew together in a thin line of displeasure. It drew out a small chuckle as I motioned to the area around us and continued, “C'mon Sammy, there’s no way we can pass on camping in Middle Earth.”

Tucking some of his chestnut hair behind his ear, he shrugged (as if that could hide his eyes rolling). I supposed he'd warm up to it once we had our own little spot of dirt to call home.

Shifting from foot to foot he mumbled, “Yeah, a lot of the rentable places in Diablo are taken at the moment by…tourists. Prime hiking season.”

“Hippie spring breakers,” I grinned. “Why can’t they be normal and get regrettably drunk and naked and make stupid decisions like the rest of society?”

Looking over at Sam who was diligently setting up a tent in the small corner of Gorge Lake Campground on the far western side of Diablo, I tried putting a positive spin on our situation. When was the last time we’d gone out and dug our hands into the dirt a little? 

Leaning against the hood of the Impala with my arms over my chest I called, “You’d think these crunchy granola types would be out here slumming it instead of in a house to get the full experience.”

“You’d think,” Sam said with only a small hint of bitterness.

“I guess that just means more for us to enjoy.”

He glanced at me over his shoulder, taking in the warm smile brightening my face. For a moment I saw the urge to grimace in the lines above his eyebrows. But then he sighed and said, “I call the thicker sleeping bag.”

I shrugged as if to say, _suit yourself_.

He continued with threading the bendy metal poles through loops to make up the framework of the nylon tent.

“Right, while you monkey around with that, I’m going to go talk with Floyd. Enjoy yourself, Cast Away.”

With a mild look of betrayal frozen on his face, I patted him on the shoulder jauntily and headed over to the Impala before he could argue. Of course, not before catching his call of, "Jerk!" 

With a smile and a wave over my shoulder I called back, "Bitch!" 

It wasn’t hard at all finding the man’s house. There was a small row of houses set back from the main road that made up Diablo. All were small one stories, nearly identical to each other aside from the personalized decorations. I went to a house on the lane that looked to be well taken care of, with a rustic display of antique wagon wheels and simplistic landscaping. I knocked solidly on the front door, adjusting my tie as I waited.

“Yes…?” An older gentleman asked as he pulled the door open wide, trustingly. His eyes were a cold brown that hinted at more underneath his worn overalls and stained working shirt than a simple country man.

“Floyd Rees? My name is Ranger Plant. You mind if I ask you a few questions?” I asked, holding up my badge for his scrutinizing eyes.

His shoulders tensed for a moment before he stepped back and motioned silently for me to go inside. The living room dining room and kitchen were all part of one 20x10ft box. Very open concept. If a little cramped. Floyd brushed by asking quietly if I wanted something to drink and motioned for me to take a seat on the dated ‘70s couch. It smelled faintly of mothballs and pot roast.

“Coffee, if you have it.” I said as I settled into the cushions.

Rummaging around in the tight space that was his kitchen, he returned shortly with two commemorative mugs from civil war reenactment sites. Nodding in thanks I took a small sip and was pleasantly surprised that the bitter liquid, despite being absent of cream or sugar, was a velvety dark roast. A desire to polish off the cup washed over me, but with a tinge of disappointment I set the cup down on his coffee table and turned to him.

Resting his forearms on his knees, Floyd asked, “So powers-be finally got you boys on this now, huh?”

“Ah, yeah…sorry for the late response, you know how regulations go.”

He nodded, sighing like he definitely understood. Rubbing at a spot on his temple he mumbled, “So I suppose you want to know about when I last saw Jacob?”

“You said in your statement that Mr. Darrah had been acting strangely before taking off into the woods. What made it strange?”

“Actin’ real out of it. Distracted. That wasn’t like him. Bastard is attentive to a fault.”

I raised my brows at ‘bastard’, asking silently for elaboration. The old man twiddled his thumbs, the sound of his rough skin scraping together illustrating how uncomfortable badmouthing not only his boss but also a missing man was for him. As he paused, I could see all the bad memories welling up.

He explained, “Jacob is a controlling ass hole. Quick to anger and even quicker to lash out. Nearly got himself arrested a few weeks ago by that girl that keeps protesting to deaf ears.”

“Really? What girl?”

“Comes over from Bellingham every free chance she gets. All those college kids always got something to be upset about. For her it’s the dam. Says the greenhouse gasses it emits and all the displaced animal ecosystems is detrimental to the environment.”

My brows drew together in question as I struggled to come up with a reason for why that made any sense. Voice faltering slightly, I asked, “But, aren’t dams supposed to be like…better for the environment than other things?”

“So is wind,” Floyd grumbled, waving his hand dismissively. “But those political types always come up with something to be offended by.”

“You uh, you got her name?”

“Don’t rightly know the real one. She goes by Moonchild.”

“_Seriously_?” I asked. “Like the chick from The Neverending Story?”

“What?”

“Never mind,” I mumbled. Trying to change the subject I continued hurriedly, “So, back to his behavior before he ran off. Was Jacob saying or doing something in particular that struck you as out of the ordinary?”

“Real quiet the last couple days before,” Floyd muttered looking thoughtful. “Like I said to the police, distracted. And then…he talked about hearing his little girl just before taking off. Said he heard her calling for him, but she’s been dead for ten years.”

The last bit of information really seemed to affect Floyd. His eyes grew glassy as he became lost in his own thoughts for a moment. It afforded me the time to run through a shortened list of monsters in my own head; from ghosts to genies and beyond. There were still too many variables.

“That’s really helpful, but do you remember anything that smelled strange that day? Or maybe see any sudden fog? Flashing lights?”

The old man chewed on the side of his lip as his brow rose in question. For a moment I thought he might not take the question seriously, but then he answered, “No, I didn’t. But Greg said he heard Jacob saying something about smelling tobacco.”

“What, you mean like a cigarette?”

“Not sure. Greg made it sound like a cigar. Said it reminded him of his Daddy smoking with old hunting buddies.”

“Okay…anything else you can tell me? Do you remember seeing the others acting up before they disappeared?” I asked before taking a gulp of my delicious coffee.

“Nothing. I don’t really socialize with them. Darren is quite the drinker. Likes to run his mouth at all hours; usually about unsavory topics. Katherine is abusive. No getting around it. She beats her husband and the poor bastard takes it to make sure the kid stays out of it.”

“So not the types you would usually invite over for a weekend barbecue?”

“No.”

Clapping my hands together after a brief pause, I stood and thanked him for the coffee. He followed after me to the doors and said as I stepped out onto the narrow front porch, “I hope you find them. May not like them, but it’s not right to wish harm on another person.”

Giving him a nod, I turned and started toward the Impala. As I put my hand into my pocket to pull out my keys, my cell phone started ringing. Pulling that out instead, I saw that it was Sam.

“Hey Sammy.” I answered, taking the time to look around at the neighboring houses.

“Hey, so I just met this crazy girl carrying around an antler.”

For a moment, his statement had the desired effect of surprise. And then I remembered the girl from Bellingham that Floyd had spoken about.

“Let me guess, her name is Moonchild?”

“Uh…yeah. I guess you heard about her then?”

“Yeah, Floyd doesn’t find her _outspokenness_ very savory.”

“Can’t blame him. I’m all for keeping our planet clean, but she’s a bit extreme. Got on her soapbox and wouldn’t leave. Kept talking about how, and I quote: _the earth would be better off if humans were gone. Farces like this ‘clean’ dam are doing just as much harm to the environment as emissions and no one is doing anything about it_.”

“Wow, _if humans were gone_, huh?”

“She’s…passionate, but seems harmless. The most she’s done so far is talk someone’s ear off.”

Running a hand over the short hairs on the back of my neck, I chuckled and filled my brother in on all that Floyd had told me. After a brief pause, he asked, “Do you think it’s worth questioning the families?”

“Nah, I don’t think there’s much more we could learn from them. It’s probably worth it to check out Jacob’s house though since he was the last to go missing. You want me to pick you up and we can head over?”

“Yeah,” he answered, the sound of rustling coming through the speaker as he looked around for something in the tent. “After that we should hit up the North Cascades Visitors Center before it gets dark, see if they have anything useful.”


	3. Diablo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get more information about the monster terrorizing the small town of Diablo.

Jacob’s house was just as small as I’d been expecting, even less taken care of than other homes in the area. At least on the outside. On the inside he had himself set up really nice. Big ass flat screen that had me half tempted to sit down and enjoy. Sam’s immediate look of disapproval stopped me in my tracks though. Pouting, I headed back out to check around the property leaving Sam with the EMF to poke around for any signs of ghosts. If there had been something out there making noises and smells, there was no evidence of it now. I did note that the back of the house abutted the thick forest, so it would be easy for anyone, creature or otherwise, to slip in and out easily. There were just too many options.  


Meeting Sam on the front porch, our mutual expressions of disappointment were enough that words were not needed. Silently we made our way to the car and headed off in the direction of the visitor center, which by the way was annoyingly twenty minutes back the way we came from in Newhalem. When we did get there, the parking lot was surprisingly full. Multiple groups of tourists and hikers were jammed inside, asking about the trails and history of the area. An attractive red-head wearing the shortest of shorts (impractical but oh so sexy) looked me up and down as we passed through the glass doors at the front. I smirked and waggled my brows victoriously at Sam (to which he rolled his eyes).  


Walking up to the help desk, we found a stressed-out man in his late thirties looking like he never thought this kind of job would ever involve talking to people. The sheer panic in his eyes said loud and clear that he regretted it. Catching sight of us coming right for him, I could almost feel his fight or flight response screaming flight. Holding out my hand before he could bolt, I called, “Ranger Plant and Bonham. We wanted to ask you a few questions about the missing dam workers.”  


Relief flooded his features, bringing a bit of color back to his face. Eager to take any excuse to leave, he squeaked to one of his coworkers that he would be back in the back room for a few minutes. The look of betrayal she shot him made even my blood run a little cold.  


Once we were sealed away in the small break room, the man slumped down into a vacant seat and sighed heavily. Crossing my arms Sam and I waited for him to catch his breath. Glancing up at us he said, “Sorry, it’s uh…busy season. I’m Eddie, you two say you’re here to search for the missing workers? I thought HQ wasn’t sending anyone for another week?”  


“They wanted someone to get a head start on the search, see if it was people getting lost or if it’s just a work abandonment thing.” Sam answered quickly.  
For a moment he looked like he was trying to process it, but ultimately deciding that he was too tired, he shook his head and asked, “So what do you want to know?”  


“Can you tell us about the area around the disappearances?” Sam probed gently.  


“Well, the dam is of course on the western side of the lake. The work has mostly been on the northwestern corner of the wall. They headed north. And as far as where they might have gone once they got in the woods…there are too many different possibilities. The most likely would be the Sourdough Mountain Trail though. The beginning is easy to follow, but once it gets into the thick of it, if you don’t know what to look for, it’s easy to get lost. Other than that, they might have gotten deep enough to be anywhere between Mt. Terror and Ross Lake, and anywhere as far north as Mt. Prophet by now.”  


The sheer weight of this investigation was becoming apparent as I struggled to piece together the distances he was talking about. Sam of course was already on it, mumbling something about a two-day hike in each direction. I assumed that was in experienced outdoorsmen terms.  


“Right, weird question, know anything about interesting folklore for the area?” I cut in.  


“You – ha ha,” the man smiled. When my expression didn’t change and I made no indication of moving the subject along, he mumbled, “Oh, you’re serious…um well, there’s legend of the spirit of a Native American Dog Soldier that appears once every so often to punish the white man. Other than that, I mean, some rumors of a Wendigo pop up when we find body parts but it’s usually because a wolf or cougar gets a little opportunistic when it finds some poor bastard that fell off the trail and killed himself.”  


I shared a quick look with Sam.  


“Thanks man,” I said, reaching over and patting Eddie on the shoulder. Reaching into my pocket, I slipped the card with my phone number on it out and slid it across the table. “Call if you come up with anything else. Good luck out there.”  


His face paled a little at the mention of the cacophony out front that he abandoned. After snagging a few maps of the area, we headed out. It was as we were getting back on the road to head to Diablo, that I finally got my first look at the bona-fide hippie named Moonchild. Sam smacked my elbow to get my attention and pointed out the window in the direction of the small gas station. There she was, hair dreaded in fuzzy blonde tufts pulled back behind a worn pastel bandanna, loose fitting patterned dress that accentuated the fact that she was unshaven pretty much everywhere, and the strangest assortment of knickknacks tied on thick hemp cord around her body. Surprisingly she was actually kind of hot. Too _organic_ for my taste, but not bad. The sign clutched in her heavily ringed fingers that she shook at any and all passersby read: _Company Town MURDER!! Save the Cascades! Damn the Dam!_  


Perhaps I had a look on my face that telegraphed just how uncomfortable her signs made me, because just as we passed by, the glower on her face told me that she thought I specifically was the scum of the earth for being so glib about the fate of the world. Shaking my head, I hopped Baby onto the ‘2’ and took us back to Gorge Lake Campground.

Once the sun dipped below the mountain peaks around us, Sam set about starting a fire. He seemed to be enjoying himself. I smiled as I thought back to when we were kids. Going out with Dad on hunts he would have me living off the bare minimum. Whenever Sam and I had the opportunity to get away just the two of us, I made sure that we had fun with it. I remember a failed cooler experiment using dry ice as a means to keep our food unspoiled. Ended up with everything getting frozen solid; not enough insulation between the dry ice and the food. It was entirely my mistake (Sam tried convincing me otherwise but I stubbornly said I knew what I was doing). We ended up dumping the lot into a nearby creek so we could watch it boil away. A good memory.  


Fires with Dad were cold. Low so the flames weren’t easily seen by anything. Fires with Sam were warm; happy like it was supposed to be. So, I let him have his way with making the grub. I sat back, enjoyed a beer, and attempted flipping through the internet on my phone to look for anything that might help us on the case. A lack of reception smashed that ambition, so I stuffed it back in my pocket and allowed boredom to distract me. I ended up letting my mind wander as I stared into the crackling flames.  


The eggs and bacon hit the spot. I grunted in satisfaction and moved so the heat from the fire could wash over my colder half. Sam smiled in satisfaction and asked,  


“So what kind of monster do you think has the hots for jerks?”  


“Nothing good,” I grumbled, feeling a wave of sleepiness come over me as I settled. How much sleep had I gotten over the last few days? Couldn’t remember.  


“I think the Reflector Bar down the road has Wi-Fi. We can go there tomorrow and get some research done.”  


I made a small noise of agreement, but my eyes were already closed. I felt myself melting into a warm puddle of exhaustion and did little to stop it. Hours later I woke up cold. Dimly I noticed that before turning in, Sam had tucked a blanket around me and tossed extra wood onto the fire. It did little to buffer against the cool mountain air. It chilled me right to the bone.  


Wiping at my running nose, I staggered over to the edges of the camp and started rooting around for some more wood to throw on the coals. As I searched, I subconsciously went over the evidence in my head, so when I briefly smelled the heady aroma of tobacco, I thought it was just a trick of my sleep-dazed mind. But just as it dissipated, I realized it was real and tensed.  


_Shit my gun is back in the Impala_, I thought, eyes scanning the moonlit foliage for any signs of movement. I waited, holding my breath as much as I could to better hear, but nothing happened. After a moment I wondered if it had just been another camper. There were two RVs parked across the way. Backing up suspiciously, I went to the fire and instead of getting more wood on it, I kicked dirt onto the coals and snuffed it out. Figured I should just get some more shut eye if I was imagining things.  


Trying to keep quiet, I gently strode over to the tent and leant in so my ear was close to the opening. Inside I could barely hear Sam softly snoring. I smiled and straightened. I didn’t want to bother him. I’d sleep in the back of the Impala tonight.

Sam beat me to conscious land and was already going over a couple hardbacks we kept in the trunk to see if there was anything useful while he waited for me to rise. Checking my watch, I saw that it was a little after eight in the morning. Yawning, I slumped into my chair and muttered a hoarse greeting. He was too engrossed in his pages to make any sort of acknowledgement. But just then my phone started ringing. Unfamiliar caller ID; had to be either Floyd or that guy from the visitor center.  


“Hello?”  


“Uh, hi, Ranger Plant? This is Eddie. We spoke at the Visitor Center yesterday.”  


“What’s up? Any sign of the missing workers?”  


“No…” Eddie said, voice cracking slightly. “But one of our Firewatchers out by Davis Peak radioed in. Said some hikers showed up saying a couple of their friends went missing overnight. Mentioned some crazy stuff.”  


“Really? Are they still at the Firewatch tower?”  


“Yeah, I was getting a four-wheeler ready to head up there, thought I’d mention it to you guys. Figured you’d want to come along.”  


“Definitely. Where do you want us to meet you?”  


“The Stetattle Creek Trail Head in about an hour and a half.”  


“Got it. See you there.”  
I hung up and filled Sam in on the situation, “These kids don’t fit the M.O.”  
His face darkened and said, “If this is related to the others, that’s an escalation.”  
Agreed. Hopefully we could figure out what was going on before more innocent people started getting taken. Sam snatched his backpack up from next to him and started toward the Impala, calling over his shoulder, “If we go now, we could do a little bit of research at the bar before heading over to the trail.”

We spent every second at the bar pouring over any and all lore we could get our hands on. And what we couldn’t get through, Sam was able to copy and paste onto his phone for when we next had free time and no Wi-Fi.  


Eddie was waiting for us at the trailhead with an extra four-wheeler. I breathed an audible sigh of relief when I realized that we weren’t hiking back to the watchtower. He was just finishing hitching a small trailer to the back of his as we walked up, hands getting slick with black oil. When he caught sight of us, he straightened and gave an awkward wave before motioning to our ride.  


“This’ll get us there in no time,” he beamed.  


Sam was eyeing the substantial first aid kit belted onto the back of our vehicle. I could hear him worrying. Knocking him with my elbow, he jolted to attention, eyes finding my own. Tipping my chin at our rides, I sauntered over to it and called, “I call dibs on driving!”  


A slight smile tipped the corners of Sam’s lips as he rolled his eyes and followed after. Even though it was a good natural instinct to be worried and alert when on a hunt, it always made me upset seeing him looking like that. Not that I’d let him know. He hates when I look at him like a kid.  


Eddie followed suit, and soon the wind was rushing by as we zoomed down the narrow trail. Absolutely stunning. The further along we went, the higher we climbed, and soon I could sit up and look down the steep slope over the evergreen trees to the aquamarine waters of Diablo Lake. Sam yelled into my ear over the wind that the lake looked so unrealistically green-blue because glaciers high up in the mountains ground against each other making rock dust, and when that melted that’s what the light picked up on the lake. Didn’t quite understand it myself, but it certainly made for a post-card worthy view.  


I was also thankful that Sam had reminded me back at the campsite to bring along my jacket. Despite being in the full swing of spring, I could once again feel the bite of the cold coming down off the mountain tops. In fact, I could see misty clouds gathering up there now, threatening a storm. Who knew if it would happen, knowing how unpredictable the area was. The curse of Washington was that if it wasn’t raining, it was threatening to. I’d only ever seen a handful of clear days and that was over on the Spokane side to the east in the dead of summer.  


Deeper and deeper we went into the North Cascades National Park, frightening the occasional bushy tailed squirrel or bright-eyed bird from the bushes that lined the path as we went. After an hour we rounded a corner carved alongside a boulder the size of a house and saw the metal structure over the rise, the Fire Tower that Eddie had mentioned. From here I could spot brightly clothed specks scattered in the clearing around the base that I assumed were the hikers that had been attacked. So far nothing strange, but there was so much land out there. I just hoped these kids would be able to give us something useful.  


Judging by their pallid faces, I could tell we would need to be extra sensitive with them when we questioned. Enough time had lapsed between the initial attack and now that I figured shock would have settled and at least one or two wouldn’t even be willing or able to speak. The three of us dismounted. One young man wearing trendy pastel shorts that accented his muscled legs came running over and threw his arms around Eddie in a desperate embrace.  


Fresh tears coursed down his cheeks as he repeated over and over, “Thank God…thank God you’re here…thank God.”  


Leaving Eddie to flounder with the task of comforting the young man, Sammy and I trudged up the hill toward the others. The fire watcher, a handsome older woman in her early forties, met us. Her grim face told the story loud and clear. Something bad happened out there, and it was too weird for her to process.  


“I’m Ranger Bonham, this is Ranger Plant. What happened last night?” Sam asked gently embodying the word empathy.  


“Isadora.” Taking in a shuddering breath, she turned to glance over her shoulder at the young people huddled together by the tower, and mumbled, “Started hearin’ screams around one this mornin’. Woke me up. Sounded close, so I started hollerin’, tellin’ ‘em to come in the direction of my search light if they could see it.”  


Closing her eyes as if the memory pained her to recall, she continued, “I managed to get one of ‘em on the radio that’d gotten separated from the others. I-I tried gettin’ him out but…but he wasn’t makin’ any sense. Kept sayin’ he was in a maze…”  


“A maze?” I probed, wondering if that was literal.  


Her soulful brown eyes met my own as if she could hear my thoughts and said, “I thought he meant the woods were confusin’ at night, but he kept screamin’ about the trees and bushes around him changin’ and movin’ on their own…he was…he was beggin’ for me to save him.”  


“It wasn’t your fault Isadora.” Sam said, brows drawn together in concern.  


A mirthless laugh came out as she murmured, “Doesn’t feel that way…”  


An awkward silence fell between the three of us as the seriousness of this situation fell like a hammer on an anvil. Clearing my throat, I rubbed at my dripping nose and gestured toward the handful of kids a few yards away and asked, “How did they find you?”  


“Took nearly ‘til sun up for them to climb up here. Most of ‘em saw the spotlight, two got me on the radio after I…after I lost touch with the first young man.” She explained, taking a deep breath. Not meeting our eyes any more, she nudged the loose dirt with her heavy boot and continued, “They told me the first one to go missin’ was a friend of theirs named Carly. Said she had been actin’ funny. Got even weirder once they started drinkin’ at their campsite.”  


“Weirder how?”  


“Kept sayin’ somethin’ about hearin’ voices in the trees...Jesus Christ, sorry boys, I’m gonna need a minute.”  


“Of course.” Sam said, stepping aside as Isadora brushed past him, clipping shoulders as she did. I noticed her trembling hand covering her mouth like she was thinking of being sick.  


Letting out a long breath of air, I gave Sam a look before heading toward the gaunt faced college kids. They were scattered around the base of the tower. Five in all, including the guy still clutching onto Eddie in hysterics by the four-wheelers. The muscles in Sam’s jaw worked as he took in the state they were in. One girl in particular sat apart from the others, eyes vacant and staring miles away. A large gash in her knee looked to still be bleeding slightly. My brother went and knelt at her side. Opening the first aid kit from the back of the four-wheeler, he proceeded to address her in a soft quiet voice, telling her his name, that she was safe now, and that he was going to clean her up a bit.  


Forcing my face into one of neutrality, I strode over to the others. Two guys, twins, with matching haircuts and clothing and a girl that was wearing a ditch into the dirt with the amount of pacing she was doing.  


Approaching them cautiously I asked, “Hey, mind if I ask you a few questions?”  


“Who’re you?” the girl asked, her green eyes flashing suspiciously at me.  


“Ranger Plant with the National Park Service.”  


She seemed satisfied enough with my answer that she resumed her manic pacing.  


One of the boys stepped up, looking ashen but cognizant enough to hold a conversation. His hand came up briefly so he could pull at the nail on his pointer finger with his teeth before he asked nervously, “Are you going to find Carly and Gavin?”  


“Find them?” the pacing girl scoffed. “After last night they’re probably in tiny pieces by now.”  


“D-Don’t say that Breelyn…” the other twin whispered in horror, looking as if he were about to burst into tears at any moment.  


“Screw you Sai! Did you not see the same crap I did?”  


“Don’t talk to him like that.” The first twin snapped, shooting her an intense glare.  


“What? I can’t tell him the facts? They’re dead Arush.”  


A choked sob came from Sai as he clamped his hands down over his ears in an attempt at shutting out everything. Realizing what she had done to her friend, Breelyn froze and watched as he collapsed onto the ground crying. After a moment of looking down at him, she turned on her heel and ran off. We watched her go. And when she was far enough away Arush knelt next to his brother and put his arms around his heaving shoulders.  


Moving so Arush could see my face I urged, “Listen, I’m going to do everything I can to find your friends. But first I need you to tell me what happened out there.”  


Looking me over, he took a moment to make his mind up about me. When he came to a conclusion, he glanced regrettably at his brother before standing and motioning for me to step away with him. Once we were out of earshot he chewed once more at his already slightly bleeding nail and asked, “What do you need to know?”  


“Everything.” I said seriously, trying to convey how important it was for me to hear a full and honest account.  


After peering once more at his brother and then at Breelyn who had taken up a new pacing spot, he muttered unsurely, “It’s going to sound crazy…”  


“I’ve dealt with a lot of crazy before.”  


“Alright…where should I start?”  


“What made you guys come out here?”  


“Spring break. We all go to Western Washington University over in Bellingham. All of us live on campus and didn’t have enough money to make trips back home before the new semester, so we decided to take Greg’s van on a road trip out here and camp for a few days.” Arush explained shakily, gesturing to the guy over by Eddie that I assumed was Greg. “Thought it would be fun…”  


Trying to keep him talking I pressed, “And then what? Try not to leave anything out, it could be important.”  


He gave me a look as though he were about to ask how on earth knowing that they were college spring breakers could matter when it came to being attacked in the middle of the woods, but stopped himself from saying it out loud, probably thinking it was better not to know.  
Shaking his head, he continued, “We picked up some last-minute stuff at the gas station in Newhalem. Carly saw her old roommate there and held us up for a while catching up before Gavin went over and pulled her away. After that we headed to the trailhead. But…Carly didn’t seem right. She wasn’t herself. Kept tweaking out.”  


“Tweaking out?”  


“Yeah, I mean, like she was having an acid flashback or something. Back in her freshman year she used to go out with a crew and trip out on shrooms a lot, so I figured she must have done other stuff too. She’s always been really hardcore but stopped all that this year. We uh…we’re both in the same pre-dentistry program…”  


Unsure of how to respond, I waited for him to get his emotional bearings.  


Clearing his throat and blinking away the tears in his eyes he said thickly, “So yeah, she kept going on about hearing stuff. Scared us all yesterday when she said she saw someone hiding out in the trees…should have listened to her.”  


“Hey man, you didn’t know this was going to happen. Like you said, she was spazzing. Hard to tell if that crap is genuine.”  


“I guess…” Arush whispered, thick tears dropping from the corners of his eyes silently. “We got woken up in the middle of the night because we heard her screaming bloody murder. After looking around for her though we couldn’t find any trace of her. She wasn’t in her tent, and she wasn’t around our camp. It was like she just vanished.”  


“Any of you smell anything strange?”  


“Yeah…how did you know?”  


“Cigar smoke?”  


He gave me a look as he took a step back like he was evaluating me for the first time since showing up. Putting up my hands in a show of peace I explained that there were reports around the town of Diablo of people smelling tobacco smoke and acting strangely.  


“Do you think it’s connected with what happened to us last night?”  


“I dunno yet. My partner and I need to get as much information as we can though so we can get to the bottom of it.”  


Arush nodded absently as he struggled to absorb the bomb I just dropped. Quickly biting at another nail, he said, “We split up, thinking maybe she’d fallen and hurt herself. Sai and I, then Breelyn and Greg, and then…Marina and Gavin.”  


At the mention of Gavin’s name, he turned to the girl Sam was administering first aid to and mumbled, “Sai and I found her on our way here. She wouldn’t talk…”  


Sadly, I peered over to her and Sam, noting that her eyes still had that glazed over quality about them. She must have seen what happened to Gavin first hand. Putting my hands in my pockets to try and warm them up a little I asked, “Did you and your brother see anything strange out there? The Firewatcher says Gavin talked about feeling like he was in a maze.”  


“I don’t know about that, but – “  


At this point Arush clammed up, as if the memory of what happened to him and his brother was too horrible.  


“Did you hear voices or see someone like Carly?”  


“We saw our uncle. Which is impossible because he…died when we were little. Heroin overdose.” He murmured, biting a new finger. “See…told you it’s crazy.”  


“Trust me, I’ve heard stranger things.” I said, patting him on the shoulder as silent thanks. “Did your uncle say anything to you specifically?”  


Again, he struggled with telling me what happened. But I waited. Even though I needed to know what went down, the last thing I wanted to do was pressure him.  


“At first he wanted my brother to go with him to ‘see something’, then he started talking about stuff from our childhood. Stuff that no one else would know. I got a bad feeling so I kept dragging Sai away, hoping we would find our way back to the campsite. But that just made whoever…whatever he was angry.” Arush’s eyes began to bug out as his mind took him back there. “The bastard threw a knife or something at us. Got me on the arm.”  


I noted the shallow wound through his torn shirt sleeve.  


“And then he said he couldn’t wait to do things to my brother again…terrible things that I never…that I never knew about.” His voice cracked as a new wave of emotions stifled his words.  


There was nothing I could say that could comfort him. So, I settled with resting a heavy hand on his shoulder in solidarity. Meeting my gaze unflinchingly after a moment he said, “I hope you find whoever is responsible for this.”  


I nodded resolutely before heading back over to the four wheelers. It seemed that with Isadora’s help Eddie had managed to get Greg to calm down. Instead of clutching onto him frantically, he sat steadily rocking back and forth and repeating ‘you’re here’ over and over again. The Firewatcher shared a look with me as I approached, as if to say, ‘understand now?’.  


We waited for Sam for about fifteen minutes as he spoke in hushed tones with Marina. Or at least tried to. She seemed close to catatonic from where I stood.  


Couldn’t blame her. Based on what Arush said, whatever monster this was liked to play with its food before chowing down. The urge to punch something swelled as I stood silently seething. I couldn’t wait to find this sick bastard.  


Finally, Sam came over, looking about ten years older.  


“How is she?” I asked.  


He shook his head, “Not good.”  


Eddie looked about ready to crawl under a rock and never come out. Pale and sick looking he said, “You boys mind helping me get them situated on the back of the trailer?”  


Of course, we agreed. Greg, Marina, and Sai were all compliant. Arush was more than happy to get on, and held his brother close as a fresh wave of relieved sobs emerged. Breelyn was a little harder to convince. I heard her arguing with Sam, so I went over to see what the matter was. It seemed paranoia was making her angry and irrational.  


“Back off Gigantor!” she hissed, recoiling from him. When she caught sight of me closing in, she sneered, “You and your partner here can shove your fake concern right up your asses! I know what government types like you care about and its definitely not little people like us.”  


I’d had it with her. Sure, she just went through something awful, but damnit she was pissing me off.  


Glaring over at her I said, “You don’t know us, okay. You don’t know what we care about.”  


Her mouth shut quickly and her chin began to tremble. Sam gave me one of his looks and I felt the guilt stab into my gut like a sucker punch. She was in pain.  


Letting out a heavy sigh, I stepped closer to her and mumbled, “Listen, you seem like a good kid, and your friends need that right now. They need you.”  


The hands at her side curled into fists as her shoulders hunched. I could see her muscling through the urge to cry. Sammy would say that it wasn’t healthy and she needed to let it out, but when I saw something like that, I thought of how strong someone had to be because that’s exactly what I do. It wasn’t easy. And a part of me admired her for that stupid courage and made me feel validated, like I wasn’t so out of line doing it myself.  


Glowering up at me she whispered, “Whatever is out there…tried to use my little sister against me. I will never forgive that. And if you don’t find it and stop it, then I will.”  


With that she stormed off to the trailer to sit next to her friends.  


Still with that wounded expression on his face Sam muttered, “Sounds a lot like you.”  


“That’s what I was thinking,” I smirked half-heartedly.  


Still looking unsteady on his feet, Eddie came over to the pair of us and said,  


“Alright, so I’m going to get these kids back to Diablo. You staying here to check out the area?”  


“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “We’ll check in with you later on today.”  


“Okay. Cell service out here is non-existent so take these.” He said, handing over a pair of heavy-duty looking radios. “Good luck.”  


And with that, he was off. I’d say he was more than ready to leave behind all this nonsense. The visitors center was probably looking really tame comparatively. We waited and watched the kids leave, bouncing along behind Eddie on the trailer. For a brief moment before they slipped out of view, I noticed Marina staring pleadingly at Sam, the first time she’d seemed in control of herself since arriving here. I didn’t say anything though. At that moment, Isadora came up.  


“They said their campsite is down the ridge about eight miles from here toward the east. I hope you don’t mind, but I think I’m going to sit out the search for now…want to get my head in order.”  


“No problem.” I said. "Like a walk in the park."  


She strode toward the metal stairs that led up to her lookout tower, head held low. Sometimes I forgot what it was like to be affected by something. Nothing really surprised me anymore.


	4. Diablo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam continue to hunt the monster they've been tracking, finally discovering its name.
> 
> Edit: Updated this chapter after getting some feedback!

Picking our way down the side of the mountain was not easy. I felt my leg muscles straining in an effort to keep me upright. There were a couple times where I had to slide down directly on my ass. But once we were a comfortable distance away from the tower I asked, “Did you get anything out of Marina?”

Peering over his shoulder at the tower as if he thought Isadora may be right behind us, he answered, “Not a lot. Said after she got separated from Gavin, she found Carly. Dead. Tied up in a tree in some sort of weird branch cocoon.”

“Did you see anything in the lore about this kind of thing?”

“No, but I bet once we get back, we can use what the kids told us to narrow it down.”

I agreed.

After an hour of strenuous sweating and muscle cramping, we finally found their campsite. Set on the far eastern side of the small valley between the mountains. Their tents were untouched, and aside from their sleeping bags and a couple other items looking like they’d been tossed aside as they woke up in a rush, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Clutching the stitch in my side I commented sarcastically, “Totally worth it.”

Sam shot me a disapproving look and kept inspecting the area. I took the time to stretch and catch my breath. Sitting on a rotting fallen log I took in the state of the clearing. The occasional beer can. Lots of footprints. And…something high up on a moss-covered tree. Squinting, I went over to get a closer look. From there it seemed almost like a hand print. Hard to distinguish from the thick layer of lichen coating the bark, and also because it was twice the size of a normal hand and not something probable.

“Dean.” Sam called suddenly, breaking my concentration. “Look at this.”

Hurrying over to where he sat crouched, I saw that he’d isolated a set of tracks. Barefoot, size six or seven and small like a woman’s maybe. They moved away from the campsite some ways, and then suddenly stopped with no signs of turning back. Gently touching the last print Sam muttered, “This must be where Carly got taken.”

Tilting my chin up, I inspected the trees. It took a moment for my eyes to pick it out, but another hand print was curled around one of the higher branches. With this one some of the bark had been broken off, as if whatever was holding on had been big and twisted around the wood like it had swung from it, taking the outer layer with it. I pointed it out to Sam.

"C'mon," I said, starting off into the trees with my gun out.

Unfortunately, the trail went cold fast. The pair of us stood amidst the dense woods standing and gawking at the ferns with nothing to go on.

"Damnit!" I grumbled in frustration, kicking at a moss-covered log. The rotting bark crumbled apart, pieces scattering everywhere. "What do we do now?"

"I dunno," Sam said. "Head back to town, I guess?"

Without warning, a scream tore through the air. It sounded close. Before I could think it through, I was already tearing off in the direction it had come from. A few seconds later Sam was calling my name and rushing after me. More screams echoed out, each one getting further and further away. It quickly became apparent that this wasn't normal. Realizing this, I tried stopping, but found my boots were not agreeing with that decision. An errant piece of moss or leaf or something sent my right ankle into a roll. I immediately collapsed with a cry of pain and crashed onto the forest floor.

"Dean?!" Sam cried, at my side in an instant.

Hissing in pain, I glanced down at my foot wedged at an awkward angle between a rock and a root.

"Fuck me, seriously?"

Working quickly, Sam dislodged my boot. Gritting my teeth in pain and digging my fingers into the dirt, I bore with the agony of him carefully removing my boot. It was already starting to swell and discolor. Seeing that I groaned and asked, "Is it broken?"

Prodding the tender flesh, he glanced nervously around for whoever or whatever had been screaming or causing the screaming and then tested the joint. Muttering an apology, he slowly rotated my foot. Not gonna lie: it hurt like a bitch.

"Not broken," he concluded triumphantly. "Just twisted pretty bad, I think."

"I'll take what I can," I muttered bitterly. "Help me up."

Hauling me to my feet he helped prop me against a nearby tree trunk. Re-adjusting the grip on my gun I glanced around for any danger. Both of us were taking up defensive positions wondering what this monster could be. Rustling from some nearby blackberry bushes caught our attention.

Shifting my position so the brunt of my weight was supported by the tree, I aimed my gun and growled under my breath, "Come on out you son of a bitch."

The rustling grew louder alongside the sound of my heart pumping blood in my ears. Sam glanced at me, shifting from foot to foot in agitation as we waited. Unexpectedly, what jumped out from the bushes wasn't a monster or anything. A deep ginger puff ball streaked out. A fox.

Its wild eyes locked on to the pair of us, staring down the barrel of our guns almost defiantly. Standing frozen, it waited. The spell was broken only when Sam let out a snort and a chuckle. Springing away lithely, the fox disappeared into the underbrush with barely a sound.

"That's who was screaming." Sam said with a disbelieving laugh, dropping his gun to his side.

Groaning, I sank down. "No wonder it was so damn fast."

Kneeling down next to me, concern furrowing his brows he asked, "How you holding up?"

"Oh, you know, just peachy."

"You're not going to be able to get very far on that." Sam commented, nodding at my ankle which had already ballooned to twice its size.

I nodded, "You're going to need to go and get help."

"I can't just leave you out here, Dean, we don't know what's out here-"

"Can it. The firewatch tower isn't far. Go get Isadora."

"But Dean..."

"Just don't forget about me," I said with a wry smile. "Or get lost."

Despite my genius attempt at encouragement he didn't look diffused at all. In an attempt at keeping my nerves in check I swallowed and said more seriously, "C'mon, go. I've got firepower if I need it."

Still looking unconvinced, he dug into his back pocket and produced one of the walkie talkies that Eddie gave us earlier. Pressing it into my hand he said firmly, "I'll be back as soon as I can."

I listened to the sound of his footfall growing fainter and fainter until all that I was left with was the sound of nature. No cars, no music, no nothing. Just the wind and my own shallow breathing. Every creak of a tree and every snap of a twig had me on edge. It was too big out here. Too many places for a monster to hide.

I don't know how long I sat there for, clutching my gun and scanning the surrounding area. Most of it was spent in tense silence. The wind was starting to pick up. Pine needles and errant leaves came cascading down from the darkening sky as the trees began to sway. A faint voice came over the wind.

Squinting, I called, "Hello?"

Nothing. I pulled out the walkie talkie and checked it. Still nothing. Had that been my imagination? It could have been the creaking of the trees combined with the adrenaline pumping through my veins. I grumbled in frustration, shivering from the sudden drop in temperature. Just as I tried calling out again, I heard the voice once more. My body tensed. It couldn't have been the fox. Those had been actual words.

**Help me**…

I thought about calling out. If that was Carly, one of the missing college students, then I should. But then the unmistakable aroma of tobacco rushed by on another gust of wind. It was faint and dissipated as quickly as it came - not consistent or strong enough to be close. I pressed back into the roots I was leaning against and adjusted my fingers on the grip of my pistol. After a while of waiting it came again. A piteous moan.

**It hurts**...

The sudden crack of a branch snapping somewhere in the near distance caused me to suck in a breath of air through my teeth. It made them ache from how cold it was. That had sounded male. Gavin?

An engine revved from somewhere nearby, cutting through the oppressive silence. It drew nearer and nearer as the seconds passed, chasing off the remains of whatever I'd just been experiencing. 

"Dean?!" Sam called over the roar of his four-wheeler.

"Here!" I hollered back, stowing my gun. 

Sam and Isadora skidded to a stop next to where I lay. Glancing from my ankle to me the firewatcher asked rhetorically, "Not as easy as a walk in the park, huh?"

I grimaced.

They dismounted, Isadora unlatching her field first aid kit from the back before heading over to me. Kneeling at my side, she muttered, "This might hurt a little."

Carefully, she tugged my sock further down past my heel, exposing swollen flesh. I hissed but stubbornly kept still. She worked quickly and efficiently. As she wrapped it tightly up in gauze, I asked, "You do this sort of thing a lot?"

"You'd be surprised," she answered. "Inexperienced hikers come out here pretty often thinkin' they can handle the wild without a guide or the proper equipment. More often than not I spend my days trackin' down those who've gone and gotten themselves hurt or lost."

Sam bent down to peer into my face and asked, "You alright?"

I nodded, motioning for him to leave it be until there wasn't an audience. He seemed to understand and backed off, scanning the surrounding area as subtly as he could. Isadora worked fast, binding up my ankle and handing me some pills for the swelling and pain. She then helped Sam haul my ass up and over to the four-wheeler. As I was situating myself on the back of Sam's seat awkwardly, I happened to glance over at Isadora who had fallen silent. She stood a few feet away, looking off into the encroaching darkness like she could see something. 

"Isadora?" I asked, catching Sam's attention.

She started at the sound of my voice, as if she'd forgotten we were there. Turning her large brown eyes on us she stuttered, "S-sorry, I think my...my eyes are playing tricks on me."

"What did you see?" Sam asked, his voice calm and controlled.

"I thought I saw...I'm not sure what I saw."

She looked spooked. Afraid that pushing her to answer might do more harm than good, Sam and I shared a look before letting it go. We rode back to the firewatch tower, reaching it just as the sunset sky started to explode with a symphony of brilliant colors. Isadora looked less shaken up as we emerged from the wilderness. 

“Feel free to radio in if you think of anything that might help us.” Sam told her earnestly. "And thanks again."

“Will do.” She smiled, the warmth not reaching her eyes.

We saddled up and started back down the trail toward Diablo a little before seven. At the trail head where we’d started that morning, we radioed in to Eddie and asked how the kids were getting along and where he’d like us to put his four-wheeler. Sounding drained he said that the police had come by and taken statements from them. A couple were taken out to the nearest clinic to get checked up.

“You can keep it with you. I’m sure you’ll get some use out of it while you’re off trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Over.” He finished, the radio falling silent.

“Let’s go back to the Reflector Bar, get some grub, and do some research.” I said, settling once again behind the handle bars of the four-wheeler.

After a quick pit stop at the campgrounds we dropped off the four-wheeler and grabbed Sam’s computer (where I hurriedly explained what I'd heard and smelled). The dinner crowd was just starting to clear out, leaving us with a cozy booth in a back corner. Gratefully, I settled in and propped my leg up on the chair. Sam ordered a salmon pilaf thing and I got their “special” the Rocky Mountain bleu cheese burger. Our beers and an icepack came out first. I took a grateful gulp and folded the ice around my tender ankle before settling in to read.

About an hour, two beers, and one burger later the late-night bar crowd started showing up. I saw Floyd come in and order what looked to be two fingers of whiskey. A bit surprising. I took him as the non-drinker type.

“Whoa, I think I got something. It fits everything we’ve got so far.” Sam said suddenly.

I straightened in my seat and gave him my attention as he started, “Okay, so according to Filipino folklore there’s something called a Tikbalang.”

“That’s one hell of a name.”

Ignoring me he continued, “It’s said that part of its body is humanoid, but its head and legs are that of a horse. It uses its powerful legs to leap great distances and move with incredible speed and dexterity. The Tikbalang is said to be a roughly ten-foot-tall shape shifting trickster. One particular trick it employs is taking the visage of a relative, friend, or someone closely associated with the victim. When the time comes for the creature to play with its prey, it’s said the smell of tobacco precedes any visions or sounds.”

“That’s it!” I exclaimed, clapping my hands together in triumph.

“I dunno…according to this Tikbalangs are more mischievous than malicious. Some even say they’re guardians of the forest. Not only that, but why would there be one here in the Pacific Northwest?”

I slumped. Good point. But it fit too well for me to let it go. I decided to dig a little deeper. After another hour I found it.

“Sammy, get this: it is possible to gain power over a Tikbalang by obtaining one of three special spines at the base of its neck, but first the creature must be subdued. To do this one must leap onto its back and tie a specially prepared rope around it and ride it until it is exhausted then pluck the spine which may be golden in color and thicker than the rest.”

“Huh, well that would explain why the Tikbalang has suddenly become homicidal. Someone must have gotten the spine.”

Furrowing my brows in thought I asked, “Hey, did you see if Moonchild had a spine thing strapped next to her feathers and beads?”

“Can’t say…”

She fit. Crazy extremist out to save the planet by killing those that do harm to mother earth.

“We should go and have a chat with her tomorrow.”

Sam nodded.

We stayed late into the night trying to find anything on how to defeat a Tikbalang and came up with jack. Nothing aside from turning your shirt inside out and asking politely to pass through the forest. Which I found hilarious but not helpful. Sometime around midnight we packed up, paid the bill, and headed back to the campground.

Sammy turned in quickly, zipping up the entrance to his tent and snoring softly after a few minutes. There were too many thoughts racing around in my head for me to sleep though, despite how worn out I was from hiking around all day. Sinking in to my fold out chair by the low burning fire I found myself worrying about those college kids.

** _ Dean_ ** _._

I bolted upright, the distinct smell of expensive cigar smoke washing over me.

** _ Dean_ ** _._

Wrestling the gun out from my waistband, I stepped away from the light of the flames and peered into the darkness.

** _ Dean_ ** _!_

“Who’s there?” I demanded, the base of my neck tingling as I struggled to recognize the familiar voice.

** _ Take your brother outside as fast as you can_ ** _._

My mouth fell open when I realized I was hearing my Dad’s voice from the night I’d never forget. Caught off guard, I dropped my gun slightly and glanced around. Nothing. Only the RV’s, Baby, and Sam’s tent.

** _ Don’t look back_ ** _._

“Dad?!” I called, voice shaking slightly as I was rocketed back to when I held baby Sam in my arms as the house began filling with smoke and flames around us. Dad had been standing over me, pressing the six-month-old into my arms. My heart had been pounding in my chest and for a moment I couldn’t feel my legs to move them.

** _ Now Dean, GO_ ** _!_

“Dean?”

I whirled around as a voice called my name from directly behind me. For a brief second, my heart felt as though it were about to crush itself and all I could think was that I needed to kill whoever was sneaking up on me. But as I lowered my barrel, I found myself staring down it at Sam’s shocked face.

A shiver of cold fear shuddered through my chest making my hand tremble slightly. I let out the breath I didn’t know I’d been holding in one quick gust and dropped the gun to my side. I looked away in shame and embarrassment.

Sam asked concerned, “What the hell, Dean?”

There was no more smell of tobacco. In fact, I wasn’t even sure if it had been there in the first place. Was this case getting to me? Where the hell was all this coming from?

“Sorry Sammy, I uh…I guess I just need to get some sleep.”

Brushing by him, I silently begged him to drop it and went in the Impala’s direction.

That was, of course, too much to ask for. Catching my arm, he said, "Hold on, Dean. You don't get to point your gun at my face and then walk away."

"There's nothing to talk about-"

"Bullshit," he cut in, coming around to block my path and face me head on.

Goddamn him and his annoyingly genuine persistence. I didn't want to talk about it 'cause I had no fucking clue about what that was. I needed time to breathe. To think. Which I couldn't do with the haunting echoes of Dad's voice, mom's screams, and baby Sam's crying still bouncing around in my head. It felt as if my clammy skin could still feel the heat from the flames ghosting across it. I shook my head, shoving my gun back into my pants and said, "Drop it, Sam."

"No Dean," he said stubbornly. "You're as pale as a ghost. Something happened."

"Damnit, I'm fine!" I roared, surprising the both of us. 

Before he could say anything else, I limped past him, shoulder-checking as I did. He tried calling after me, telling me to wait, but thankfully he didn't follow. I disappeared down the gravel road away from the campsite, ignoring the pain in my leg. 

It was a surprisingly calm and clear night despite the wind that had kicked up earlier. I didn't go very far. I knew better than to wander off alone at night with a Tikbalang on the loose. So, after about a minute of limping, I huffed and sat down in the dirt. 

"Fuck," I grumbled, carefully rubbing my throbbing ankle. 

Suddenly, the quiet night air was interrupted by the sound of my phone's ringtone going off at full volume. I jumped. How was I getting reception? I hadn't had any since arriving. Tugging the offending machine out of my pocket, I glanced and saw that the caller ID was unknown.

"Yeah?" I answered cautiously.

"Hello Dean."

Castiel's familiar greeting was more than welcome after what went down just a few minutes ago. Tilting the phone from my mouth for a moment so he couldn't hear, I let out a long sigh and said, "Cas, man, it's good to hear from you."

"I can hardly hear you, Dean." He said, the familiar grumble of his voice slightly distorted by the poor connection. "Where are you?"

"Diablo, Washington," I answered, raising my voice a little so it might be easier to hear me. "Sam and I are on a case."

"You're on a base? Dean, I don't think-...good idea-..."

"No, a case. Case!" I repeated, smirking with amusement. "What's up Cas? You need something?"

"I'm in-...Oklahoma. I thought-...demon possessed dog." Cas said, his voice coming in and out. "Turned out-...wrong. It seems Pekingese-...naturally unkind."

I laughed. No hold barred, laughed. 

"What-...case?" he asked.

"Sammy and I are tracking down a Tikbalang. You know anything about them?"

"Dean-...you say Tikbal-...Dean?"

"Cas, can you hear me?" I called, raising my voice and tilting my head as if that might help the reception.

"Don't-...Dean?"

His voice became swallowed by static. Only the faint punctuation of my name got through before the line went dead. Looking down at the screen in disappointment, I shut it off and stuffed it back in my pocket. I sat with my arms crossed over my knees quietly thinking about the angel while my vision slowly adjusted once more to the darkness. 

Birds chirped lazily as the morning sun slowly lit up the sky. A thick blanket of fog settled over the damp earth, making the forest feel even deeper than it had before. My ankle ached as I sat staring vacantly through the dense foliage, chin resting on my fist.

“You’re up early,” Sam commented dryly as he emerged from his tent. 

“Mm…”

“Did you get any sleep?”

I ignored him.

“Last night – “

“I’m fine.”

His brown brows drew together in concern as he took in my haggard appearance. Noticing, I sat up, allowing my shoulders to untense and asked, “For once could you listen when I ask you to mind your own business?”

His concern quickly morphed into anger as he said, "No Dean, I can't."

I rolled my eyes and turned away as he continued, "For once could you just admit that you have feelings like the rest of the world and talk about them?"

I chewed the inside of my cheek, struggling with one half of me calling for blood and the other half wanting to walk away like I did last night. I ended up sitting there, fuming quietly and glaring off into the woods. It wasn't like I didn't talk to him. I'd gotten a lot better over the years. All the traveling together kind of forced me to. But there were still some topics that I just couldn't go near. 

After a few moments, Sam shook his head with disappointment and said, "Let's go back to the bar for some more research."

I grunted in agreement. 

Once the sun had come up enough to disperse the mist, we headed back to the bar. The owner seemed surprised to see us considering we left so late last night, but didn’t linger on the thought too long. He asked gruffly what we wanted for breakfast and quickly shuffled off to start on the order. Holding the mug of coffee up to my forehead I let the warm porcelain sooth away the stiffness I’d been carrying around like a cloud over my head. I nursed the scalding liquid and continued to meditate on the blissful silence that had finally settled into my mind.

“The other day I asked around to see what Moonchild’s deal was. People say she comes in just after nine thirty – like clockwork – down at the gas station in Newhalem.” Sam said tentatively. “We could head there after this?”

I grunted in agreement, keeping my eyes closed.

“Seriously man, what happened last night?”

“Nothing Sammy,” I grumbled tiredly, looking up at him.

Leaning in he mumbled under his breath, “You were talking to the air, Dean. That doesn’t really seem like nothing.”

So, he had heard. Stiffening, I wondered if I could get away with saying I had been sleep walking. No. He was too smart for that excuse.

“I thought…I thought I heard Dad.”

Sam’s expression darkened even further.

“Did you smell tobacco?”

“Yeah.”

“Why would the Tikbalang mess with you?”

Shooting him a half-hearted smile I replied, “Because I’m a dick?”

He rolled his eyes at me.

“It’s not like there’s anything we can do about it right now. If it happens again, I just have to remember to turn my shirt inside out.” I shrugged.

He looked like he wanted to argue. Or talk about my feelings more. But knowing I was done with our conversation, he settled with running his fingers through his long hair in frustration. We ate in relative silence after that, doing a little more reading in an effort to find a way to find or defeat our monster easily. But no dice.


	5. Diablo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean finally confront the monster they've been hunting in Diablo.

The morning was quickly heating up as the sun crested the mountain tops, I felt myself starting to sweat under my jacket. Not enough for me to want to take it off though. Bursts of chilled wind swept through the narrow valley every so often, reminding me that the area was unpredictable, especially in the spring. In another half hour it might start raining or even snowing on us. The people in Newhalem thought so as well. Half carried umbrellas and thick woolen hats, and the other stood in shorts and sandals, but all peered up at the sky in question.

Our girl stood on her plastic crate, holding her sign and yelling about environmental devastation. Her dull grey socks were losing their elasticity and were slowly slipping unevenly toward her Birkenstock sandals. Today she wore what I can only describe as thin pantaloons that billowed with every breeze and ended at her knees. On top she had a fleece North Face vest and long sleeve shirt. Her knickknacks were still strapped all over her body on hemp cord (feathers, crystals, a couple bones) and she’d tucked her dreadlocks under a beanie. All in all, she legit looked like she was ready to sail on a pirate ship through marijuana fields.

I shot Sam a quick look before stepping up to her.

“Moonchild? Mind if we ask you a few questions?” I asked, muscling down the urge to chuckle.

The glare she sent down my way from her perch was enough to chase off any idea of laughter. Sniffing she said, “Yes I do. I don’t associate with the enemy.”

“The _enemy_?” I scoffed debating whether or not I should laugh.

“Why do you think we’re the enemy?” Sam asked rationally, jabbing me in the side in an effort to shut me up.

“You two are the Rangers I’ve heard about, right? And that means you work for the state, and if you work for the state you work for the government, and if you work for the man, then you’re the enemy.”

“Well that’s - that’s true, but we’re not-” Sam started, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Damn the dam!” she suddenly yelled, cutting him off. “Stop the slaughter of unique ecosystems now!”

Her sign nearly grazed my cheek as she raised it up. Which pissed me off. Ignoring Sam’s warning, I reached up and snatched the sign out of her hands. Hackles raising, she turned on me. I didn’t give her a chance to speak however.

“Now listen here: people are in danger. Two innocent kids are missing, possibly dead. And they have nothing to do with your Company Town politics. If you want to continue on your crusade later, that’s perfectly fine, but right now we need to ask you some questions.”

Surprise flitted across her freckled face. We faced off in silence, ignoring the curious looks of the passersby around us.

Finally, she asked in a quiet voice, “Kids…?”

“Yeah, here for spring break from Bellingham.”

Moonchild froze as she stepped down from her box. I watched as her face drained of color before she looked to Sam and asked urgently, “What are their names?”

“Carly and Gavin,” Sam answered, reaching out to steady Moonchild as she wavered on her feet. “Did you know them?”

Her face twisted in agony as tears slid down her cheeks and she said thickly, “Carly was my roommate my junior year…”

I flashed back to my conversation with Arush about the events leading up to going into the woods and remembered that he’d mentioned Carly had stopped to catch up with someone before Gavin pulled her away. A part of me wanted to keep her on our suspect list but watching her now I couldn’t believe that any longer. She was really broken up about Carly, and not in a ‘I’m poorly acting false emotions cause I’m a bad guy’ kind of way. It was genuine.

Feeling bad about my outburst, I ran my fingertips along the edge of the poster board sign and moved to stand in front of her as she sat heavily on her box. Setting her sign down next to her I asked, “You’re here almost every day, right? Can you tell me about anything unusual you’ve noticed?”

Wiping at her dripping nose, she glanced up and asked unsurely, “You mean the workers at the dam disappearing?”

“That and anything else that comes to mind.” Sam said, nodding to her as a silent sign of support.

For a moment, she sat in silence, wracking her brain for anything that could help us. After some time, I offered up suggestions that might jog her memory, mentioning hearing things, or strange smells.

“I mean, I heard about those people disappearing. Sometimes I go up to the dam to see what kind of new damage has been done, but they run me off pretty quickly…I don’t…” she said, voice constricting as she grew more and more upset.

Placing a hand on her trembling shoulder, Sam muttered, “It’s okay if you don’t – “

“Wait, about a month, month and a half ago, I was picking up litter at the turnoff by the dam. I was back behind some bushes when I overheard an argument between the construction manager and some woman. He was being a real jerk, talking about how their relationship was about nothing but pleasure and that he had to get back to reality and his wife.”

“Was it the manager that’s gone missing?” Sam asked.

She nodded.

An argument? That was it? Out of habit I asked passingly, “Do you remember what this woman looked like?”

“Older lady, looked like she works outside, had a southern accent.”

Well paint me surprised. My eyes widened in realization; Isadora. Sam and I shared a look.

“Thanks Moonchild, if you think of anything else, give us a call.” Sam muttered, drawing a card out from one of his pockets and handing it over to her.

“I hope you find them.” She called forlornly after our retreating backs.

The familiar creak of the driver’s side door of the Impala accompanied my exclamation of, “Wow.”

“You got that right.” Sam agreed. “I think we need to go pay Isadora a visit.”

As I sat on the worn leather seat and situated myself behind the wheel, I heard the crackle of radio static coming from the backseat.

“Come in Rangers…come in…”

Using his height to his advantage Sam bent back and reached for one of the radios Eddie had given us yesterday. Pressing the button on the side, Sam held it up to his mouth and answered, “We’re here Eddie, what’s up? Over.”

“There’s been another…disturbance, and I can’t reach our Firewatcher up at Davis Peak. Meet me back at the Stetattle Creek Trailhead asap. Over.”

“On our way. Over.” Sam said, turning to me.

We high tailed it back to Diablo and found Eddie waiting for us next to a woman sitting slumped against a boulder. Blood covered both of them. He turned wide eyes on us as we approached.

“Found her in the woods nearby after a couple campers called in about hearing someone screaming.” He said with a concerning amount of brevity, like he’s seen too much of this horror over the last few days to last him for a lifetime. “I need to take her to the clinic, got a nasty wound. Looks like it might be a wild animal. Big one.”

I glanced down at the woman. Under her trembling arms and the blood, I could spot some deep gashes running across her abdomen. She had the traumatized thousand-yard stare I’d seen on so many others. Patting Eddie on the shoulder in a comforting manner I mumbled, “Good job, we’ll take it from here.”

“She said her husband was out there with her.”

“Okay,” Sam said. “You get her taken care of.”

Both got to their feet with difficulty but shuffled off with little more than a few fading whimpers. Mood now tense and heavy, I mentally checked on my pistol tucked into my waistband and followed after Sammy’s tense shoulders as he traced the trail of blood past the tree line. It wasn’t easy. It quickly turned sporadic, then unpredictable, and eventually disappeared.

“I think it’s time we go head up to the tower and have that chat with our friendly neighborhood Firewatcher, Isadora.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.”

We sprinted back to the Impala, went and grabbed the four-wheeler and hauled ass up the mountain. As the sky darkened with the accumulation of thick, black storm clouds, I felt that familiar knot in my stomach that showed up every time before something big went down. It made my leg bounce in anticipation.

Sam called over the wind, “We get to Isadora, we find the golden spine, and we throw whatever we can at the Tikbalang to see what sticks.”

“Got it.”

A thin sheet of rain was coming down as we arrived, dampening clothing that wasn’t waterproof and making visibility a little difficult. Didn’t stop me from noticing that none of the lights in the tower were on. The shadowed windows stared down at us blankly. Jerking my head in its direction, I took out my gun and proceeded to quietly limp my way toward the metal stairs that led up the western side of the tower.

Keeping my barrel pointed low, I slunk up to the door and called out, “Isadora…? You home?”

When no answer came, I nodded to Sam over my shoulder as a signal to open the door. It did with a loud creak and I rushed in, checking all the corners for anyone waiting to spring on us as I did. Nothing. Sam tried the light switch but found that the power was dead. We switched on flashlights and started poking around for any clues. Not a whole lot besides tattered novels, a typewriter, small table, kitchenette, twin extra long bed. It was like a crappy apartment the size of a small hotel room.

“Let’s head out and search the area for any-” I started, but my words were cut off as one of the large glass windows that enclosed the tower exploded in a shower of broken shards. I dropped, curling into a ball to save my face from being cut to ribbons. As the howling wind came through, scattering loose papers and dampening everything with rain water, it carried with it the unmistakable smell of tobacco. Once I knew my eyes were safe from glass chunks, I brought up my gun and tried to find a target to shoot. But there was nothing.

“Guh…!” my brother let out a pained grunt from behind me.

“Sammy?!” I turned, rushing over.

Going right through the muscle of his left bicep was a thick spine that looked like it could come from a porcupine but was the length of my forearm, as thick as my thumb, and a pale sickly grey. His teeth ground together as his brows furrowed in pain, pinned to the wall.

Coming up to his side, I wrapped my hand around the spine and muttered reassuringly, “Don’t worry, this’ll only hurt for a second.”

Taking in sharp, shallow breaths in an effort to prepare himself, he nodded as if to say, ‘Just do it’. Which I did. With one sharp yank, I ripped the spine out. Clutching his shoulder, he slumped forward and hissed in agony. Thankfully, ‘bouncing back quickly and pushing through’ was a shared middle name. I clapped him on his back and stooped to pick up the gun that had dropped from his shocked hands. Taking it from me, he jerked his chin down at my ankle and asked, “You good?”

“Yeah,” I answered, trying not to think about how much it was aching. After sharing a soulful look with him, I followed him out once more into the downpour and down the stairs to the base of the tower.

“Come on out, you son of a bitch!” I called into the shadows, flashing my light around at anything that moved. “Think we’re scared of you?”

Sam stepped carefully around me, scanning the opposite side of the clearing around the tower.

“**_Of course not, Dean._**” A familiar voice called, making my blood run cold. My brother whipped around, face going white as a sheet as he looked to me. He could hear it too. “**_But you are afraid of something. Everyone is…_**”

It couldn’t taunt me into getting upset. I’d grown up fighting monsters, nothing could get under my skin.

Narrowing my eyes, I looked around for any sign of it. And there, off to my right next to the tree line, the figure of a pale humanoid slunk away. Sam and I sprinted after it, with Sam getting further ahead as my leg started twinging with pain. As we headed deeper, the sound of the rain storm became muffled, the thick canopy slowing down the downpour, and soon all I could feel was the faint tickle of rain drops as I ran. It made my heavy breathing all the more apparent in my ears.

Sam kept getting further and further ahead. I called out to him at one point, telling him to wait up, but for some reason he couldn’t hear me. Gripping at my leg as flashes of white-hot pain stabbed up from my ankle, I tried once again to stop him. But in an instant, the yawning darkness had swallowed him up.

Panic clamped down around my chest, making every breath painful as I realized that not only was my brother alone, but so was I.

“Sammy?” I hollered.

Silence.

“Sam!”

“**_Abandoned by the baby brother you swore to protect_**.” The voice hissed. “**_Left to the mercy of monsters that have secretly always terrified you…_**”

I spun wildly in the direction of the voice, but there was nothing there. Only the quiet trees that seemed to close in oppressively all around me.

“**_Not that you can blame dear little Sammy,_**” the voice said from over my shoulder, directly into my ear. “**_Plenty of others have left you for the same reasons. Less…if we’re being honest with each other._**”

Spinning on my heel, I struck out with a wild right hook. I could feel my composure slipping. It was getting in my head.

“**_It’s only a matter of time before he comes to terms with the fact that you and this life are hopeless lost causes…_**”

“Shut up,” I mumbled angrily, trying desperately not to think about the argument I’d had with Sam back at the campsite. “He and I are a team! We always will be!”

It chuckled, the sound echoing all around me, “**_Ah, yes, a team. Just like you and your Father._**”

“Don’t you talk about him.”

A subtle snap of a twig perked my ears. I turned to it, the light of my flashlight illuminating the figure of my Dad, making my heart stutter. He stood looking exactly like he did the last time I saw him, with a hand raised to block the blinding light of my flashlight.

My jaw dropped open as he sent a dimpled smile in my direction and said, “**_Hiya Dean…”_**

Before this thing could sink its claws any further into my insecurities, I clenched my jaw and put four rounds into its chest. The image of my Dad jerked back with every impact. It was a tough sight to swallow. But the fact that it maintained eye contact the entire time was unsettling enough to remind me that it wasn’t real. A bubble of disappointment swelled in my gut as I realized that those bullets had had no effect whatsoever.

“**_Silver bullets?_**” it asked sarcastically, with a tinge of the disappointment Dad always sprinkled on everything he said. “**_C’mon Dean…you can do better than that._**”

_ Crap._

I turned and lurched into the woods as fast as I could on my bad ankle. Not much else I could do. Hopefully Sam was working on some sort of solution while I was trapped with it. I just had to buy enough time for him to come up with something. Let’s hope I wasn’t getting myself too hopelessly lost in the miles and miles of wilderness around Diablo.

Suddenly I ran straight into a solid wall of leaves that hadn’t been there a brief second before. The sharp scent of juniper assaulted my nose as I fell flat on my ass. Groaning and rubbing the spot on the back of my head that collided with the hard earth, I rolled over and glanced up at the offending shrubbery. Looking around I found that what looked like a hedge maze had sprung up around me. I was trapped.

Gritting my teeth as tobacco smoke wafted over the wind, I grumbled, “Dick move.”

“**_You didn’t seriously expect me to go soft on you now, did you?_**”

There he was, standing over my shoulder, looking down at me like I was nothing more than a little boy dressing up as a hunter. It was an uncanny resemblance with my old man. His face darkened as his hand convulsed in my direction. For the split second I remained still, I saw it transform from a human hand into one that would be more fitting to a Tikbalang; unnaturally long, spindly, pale fingers that ended in sharp claw-like points. When he gestured to where I lay, black tipped spines shot out like a bullet. Same as the one that skewered Sam in the fire watch tower. The ends thudded into the ground next to me, narrowly missing my head.

“A guy can hope,” I said breathlessly, springing to my feet.

Taking off in a limping run again, I wound my way through the maze like a rat. Doppelganger Dad was waiting around every corner. It spoke of every painful memory that I kept locked away, hurling them at me alongside its deadly spines. I was getting tired physically and emotionally. But I could handle it. At least I thought so until I found myself in a grassy clearing.

The temperature dropped sharply. I could see my breath puffing out in thick, opaque plumes each time I exhaled. The grass and leaves that had been wet with rain water before now crunched under my shoes as they hardened under a thin layer of frost. As I cautiously moved forward, I spotted large cocoon like objects suspended in the high branches around me.

Squinting through the din, more features came into focus: a hand, a tuft of hair, a leg. There was almost a dozen of them. It seemed that this was where the Tikbalang was keeping the people it had taken. I swallowed hard and adjusted the grip on my pistol.

The air shifted, causing the hair on my body to stand on end. Through the fog another figure emerged. I watched as the familiar gait faltered and the person collapsed to the ground.

“Sammy!” I cried, rushing across the glade to his side.

Dark blood pooled around his body from a wound I couldn’t find. Frantically I searched, hoping to stop the bleeding. But it was too late. His chest grew still.

“**_You did this to me._**”

I gasped and gazed confused at my dead brother’s corpse now staring up at me with cloudy, expressionless eyes. His purple lips parted again as he whispered, “**_I never wanted this life. You killed me, Dean._**”

This wasn’t Sam. I knew that. But it didn’t stop my hand from shaking as I raised it to inspect the sudden weight that had appeared there. A knife dripping with blood. It looked so real.

My Dad knelt next to us suddenly, giving me a look of mock pity and said, “**_Your baby brother is dead, Dean. And for what? A brief escape from the crushing loneliness that follows you around like a curse?”_**

“Shut up…” I said, my voice trembling.

“**_That unrealistic hero complex of yours hasn’t helped poor Adam stuck in the Cage now, has it?_**”

I couldn’t look. Doppelganger Dad had morphed into my littlest brother. The one I’ve never forgotten about and has haunted more than a dream or two.

“There’s no way to – “

“**_Do you think my brain is the consistency of warm oatmeal by now, or is there some minuscule shred of hope that I’ve hung on to my sanity?_**” Adam asked conversationally, sharing a look with Dad. “**_That wouldn’t matter though, right big bro? I mean, according to you I wasn’t even a real Winchester. Just a snot nosed brat that stole the love and attention you deserved while you were out wiping your ass next to the things that go bump in the night._**”

“That’s not true.”

“**_No, you’re right. You’re thinking: hey, it’s better Adam is stuck down in the deepest pits of Hell, rather than precious Sammy. Because no matter what, you’ll always choose him first._**”

“Stop it…”

“**‘Stop it’_. Oh Dean, you sound like a whiny little bitch right now, you know that?_**” Dad was back, breathing down my neck like he always had. “**_Just own up to the fact that you like manipulating naïve ass holes into doing what you want._**”

“**_You lead them to their deaths like blind cattle, and you have the audacity to smile afterwards like nothing happened._**” Adam whispered menacingly.

A cold hand suddenly clamped down on my forearm, tugging me closer. I fought weakly as I looked into Sam’s face as he said, “**_All I am is a monster to you._**”

“No, Sammy, don’t – “

Suddenly I was alone. No Sam, no blood, no Dad, no Adam. Only oppressive silence to torment me. Slowly the eerie calls of faceless beasts rose up, circling me. I couldn’t stop crying. It was pathetic and weak. Everything they were saying about me was right.

A guttural, wet roar erupted from behind me making me jump. My skin tingled as dread rippled down my spine. I was suddenly eight years old again, shivering, holding a silver knife unsurely in my small hands, wondering when Dad was going to come back to baby Sam and me.

“**_That’s right, Dean. You hide your fear well, under all that bravado. But no matter how many times you tell yourself to choose to be brave - to push through - you’re still a frightened little boy._**”

Those unknown horrors that I’d fought against my whole life were finally going to get me. I wanted to see Mom. The overwhelming sound of her dying scream rose up from the darkness around me to bounce around in my head. I dropped to my knees, pressing my palms against my ears in an effort to shut it out as I curled inward like a child. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was.

“**_Dean…?_**”

His deep voice was so soothing, the effect it had on me was immediate. Slowly, in disbelief, I lifted my head and caught sight of a familiar trench coat. Castiel. As I looked into his quizzical face, I was reminded that I could always trust him to have my back.

I was back to being grown up me again as I called, “Cas…? What the hell are you doing here?”

His head was quirked to the side in concern as he fluidly made his way to my side. Crouching down at my level, his warm hand settled heavily on my shoulder as he said, “**_After our call was disconnected, I came to find you._**”

I hunched involuntarily away from his touch. Either not noticing, or not caring, he leant closer. His soulful eyes silently told me that I wasn’t alone. I closed my fingers around his, leaning gratefully into his touch.

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you.” I muttered.

“**_What’s happening? Dean, you’re hurt…_**”

“It’s fine,” I muttered, shaking my head as he tried to bend down and inspect my ankle. “We need to find Sam.”

“**_Dean –_**” he called after me as I pushed away and limped in the direction I’d come.

“He's gotta be close. If we can just – “

“**_Tsk, tsk, Dean…you shouldn’t be so quick to abandon your little lap dog._**”

Turning back around a small gush of air rushed out of my constricting throat. Cas stood, locked in place by the pointed tips of the Tikbalang’s dagger-like fingers hooked under his chin. I watched helplessly as the points threatened to dig into the skin of his neck.

Holding up my hands as a sign of peace, I called, “Hey, whoa there. Just…just let him go. I’m the one you want.”

The Tikbalang was even more frightening in person. When Sam had read the descriptor ‘half man half horse’ all I could think of was a bipedal centaur. Not too scary. But this…was awful. Ten-foot-tall, long stringy black hair, with the face of a wild horse. Spittle foamed and spilled out from the corners of its mouth as it bared sharp fangs. Wet nostrils flared with each deep breath. I could see its ribs and every joint under its taut, pale, hairless, grey skin. It stamped its cloven feet in agitation as it clutched Castiel’s waist tighter. He choked in response, trying and failing not to move too much. Blood trickled down from his neck as the razor-sharp points jabbed into his throat.

“**_Ah, Dean…_**” It laughed, it’s voice coming to me from in my mind. “**_This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time._**”

“You don’t have to do this!” I begged, locking eyes with Cas who looked like he was trying to tell me to run. “Isadora is controlling you. If I can get the spine back – “

“**_You thought she was controlling me? Poor simple human, no. I love her. I would do anything for her._**”

Sure enough, as I studied the creature, I could see something golden flashing over its shoulder as it tossed its head back with a laugh. What should I do? Castiel looked like he was in pain but holding it back. He wanted me to go, to save myself, I could see him willing it in his eyes. There was no way that was happening.

“**_She didn’t have to control me…not like you do with your obedient friend here._**”

Lifting Cas so only his toes brushed the ground, the Tikbalang rubbed the side of its face against his struggling form. White hot anger boiled up and I started toward them, not sure what I would do, but unwilling to back down.

“**_Ah, ah, ah…far enough, Dean. You wouldn’t want me to pluck your angel’s feathers._**” It said, moving faster than my eyes could track to just out of my range. Castiel grimaced, pawing uselessly at the hand holding him as the sharp points stuck into his skin once more.

“**_Dean, don’t listen to-_**” Cas cried, struggling against the Tikbalang.

“**_And there he goes, pining after you. I wonder how long it’ll take before he’s disappointed with your faux machismo. I’ll tell you what, I’ll let him go if you do something humiliating for me. Something you would never do in a thousand years._**”

“Name it, dick-wad.” I growled.

“**_Tell Castiel your deepest darkest secret._**”

My initial thought was ‘which one?’. But I had to take this seriously. I held Cas’ life in my hands. But it was like my mind was going on overload with too many possibilities. I’d written my slate blank with too much ink.

“I’m…I’m afraid. All the time.”

The Tikbalang slashed down Cas’ arm without warning, leaving deep wounds. Before I could make a move forward, it pointed its newly bloodied fingers at me and hissed, “**_I need more than that Dean._**”

“Okay!” I yelled. “I’m…I’m afraid of myself.”

“**_Why?_**”

Casting my eyes away I mumbled, “Because I know I can be more of a monster than most of the things I hunt.”

“**_Wrong._**”

“What?”

“**_It’s not quite right,_**” the Tikbalang crooned, giving Castiel’s ribs a none too gentle squeeze. “**_Come now, dust off the deep dark corners of that perfectly symmetrical noggin of yours and _think_._**”

But that was it. Some days I didn’t even feel close to human anymore. I was detached. Everyone that had gotten close to me had thought that at some point. Even Sam. I looked up at a loss into Castiel’s worry filled eyes, silently telling him that I was sorry I’d gotten him in this situation; one that I always seemed to get him into. As we stared at each other, I saw that he didn’t blame me. He never had. And he never would. My breathing came out fast as my heart rate picked up. No matter what he’d always believed in the good in me, unconditionally. Hell, he spurned heaven for me. But still I couldn’t speak. 

I watched the subtle lines of his face deepen as the fear that had been so plain on his face slowly transitioned into betrayal. His eyes that were a gem-like color blue glimmered with a fire that reached where I stood rooted to the spot. My blood chilled at the sight of the warrior angel looking down at me like I was less than dirt.

“I’m sorry, Cas.” I breathed, lost in that look.

“**_Too slow,_**” the Tikbalang growled through an unsettling grin, eyes flashing with malice.

“No!” I cried, springing forward. I blinked and, in that brief second, I felt a spray of warm blood across my face. Two of its spines were driven through the pale flesh of Cas’ neck easily coming out the opposite side like a needle through fabric. His mouth worked soundlessly, crimson trickling down the corners as it filled.

Another blink and the creature had gone in a pale blur. Cas’ body slumped to the ground. I followed after, sliding in next to his side and cradling his lolling head between my hands. Shaking all over I struggled to put pressure on his wound; pointless 'cause he was already gone. I started muttering words of encouragement and comfort to him, but as the seconds ticked resoundingly by, I realized that the silhouette of his wings had been singed into the ground where he'd landed. 

“**_Another death to add to your ever-growing roster, Winchester._**” The Tikbalang whispered from over my shoulder. “**_Another helpless lamb consumed by your wolfish pride._**”

Fresh tears coursed down my cheeks as realization dawned. I'd stuffed the truth so far down under all the killing and drinking. My best friend was dead. I'd gotten him killed because I couldn’t get my head out of my ass and say that I was thankful he was around. To tell him how sorry I was that I use him to compensate for my own lack of self-confidence.

“**_Now you know what it’s like,_**” Sam said, kneeling down opposite Cas’ body from me. “**_When you came and took me to go find Dad that weekend, and I came back to Jess stuck on the ceiling…on fire…she died because I wasn’t there to protect her._**”

I could barely breathe. All I could do was beg silently for Cas to not be dead. I pulled his body into my lap, hunching over him in an effort to protect him and myself from the harsh truths raining down. Dad and Adam came up on either side of me once again, sneering at my pitiful attempt at hiding.

I could feel Dad’s hot breath on my neck as he hissed, “**_You did this. Strong, capable, hero. Cas is dead because of you. All he ever wanted –_** “

A crunching, squelching sound followed by a heavy shuddering thud came from nearby. Dead Sam was suddenly gone. Dad and Adam disappeared. The heady smell of tobacco began to dissipate. I hadn’t even registered how strong it was.

“Dean!”

Numbly, I looked up. I sat in a shallow puddle of rainwater in the middle of a clearing. Rain fell into my eyes as I looked up numbly. Another loud thud came from my right and as I slowly turned my head, I saw an equally soaked Sam straddling a flailing monster as he continuously stabbed it. I noted the puncture wound in my brother's arm and the inside out shirt on his torso.

Castiel’s limp body was no longer in my lap.

None of that had been real.

I struggled to my feet. My thoughts feeling like they were running sluggishly through a thick cloud of cotton. Focusing on each individual step, I staggered to Sam's side as he plunged what looked like one of the Tikbalang's own spines into the back of its head and torso. Reaching down, I wrapped my fist around the glinting golden spine. Placing the toe of my boot on the monster's jaw, I gripped tight and yanked. Sam glanced at me hurriedly before backing up enough to allow me access to its heart. Without blinking, I shoved the spine deep into the already torn tissue. 

The creature attempted one last gurgling cry before convulsing. I watched on blankly. Breathing hard as he came to my side, Sam gripped my shoulder and hollered over the wind, “Are you okay? _Dean_?”

I was utterly speechless. The monster was dead. Cas was still alive. Of course. Only an angel blade or something more powerful could have killed him. When I didn't answer, Sam's brows scrunched together as he knelt at my level and asked seriously, "What happened?" 

I couldn’t even look at him. Cringing away from his touch, I fell back onto my ass and pulled my knees to my chest, resting my head in my hands. I needed to calm down before I really lost it. Being the tenacious and infinitely kind little brother that he was, Sam knelt down next to me and even went so far as to wrap his warm (and very real) arms around my trembling shoulders. I tried to ignore the hesitation in his body language and wondered how much of my trip down self-loathing lane he’d seen. I tried to move away again at the thought, but he held me in place. Silently refusing to let me be alone in my suffering.


	6. Part Two - Ashland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of what happened in Diablo comes crashing down around the older Winchester's shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I tried indenting the first few chapters and I have quickly realized how annoying that is to code, so I am abandoning that! Hope it doesn't ruin any immersion.

Part Two - Ashland

Present Day

As my vision came back to me, I slumped over in my rickety chair. Back to being hopelessly drunk in a crappy motel room. Castiel, the one that I had to remind myself was the real one looked at me with a blank expression. So hard to read. Now that my demons had been exposed, did he hate me?

“Cas…I’m sorry,” I mumbled thickly.

The scrape of his chair was harsh on my sensitive ears. Not that it mattered much because in the next second I was engulfed in a tight embrace. My head was crushed gently against the unyielding linen fabric of his white button up shirt. I could feel his chest underneath, and the heart beating steadily. At first, I tried pulling away. This was exactly what the Tikbalang had talked about. I was using Cas. And it could only end with him getting hurt or worse.

That thought was abandoned however, when he stubbornly kept me pressed against him. It was like he was silently telling me that nothing that happened or was said out there mattered. He was here with me now and he wouldn’t choose otherwise. Even though I still didn’t fully trust that it was right, I allowed it. Slowly, tentatively, I closed my eyes and curled my fingers into his coat.

We sat there for a long time. I wasn’t sure exactly how long, but I knew it wasn’t long enough. A knock came from the door. I swayed as Cas pulled away and wordlessly went to answer. As the door opened, I caught sight of Sam, brows brought together in concern. Our eyes met briefly before I glanced away. Where did my booze end up?

They spoke in hushed tones at the door, exchanging what looked like room keys while I stumbled around on a clumsy search for my whiskey. It was hopeless though; the room was spinning too much for me to properly pay attention. Suddenly I realized that I was tired. And stupidly decided that the black and white checkered stretch of floor between the door and the refrigerator looked comfy enough. After all, I couldn’t be bothered to make the long trek over to the beds six feet away.

I must have passed out for a brief minute. When I came to, Cas had come back in, sat on the floor, and pulled me into his lap. My first thought was something that my Dad had said once when we were out on a hunt (one of the first he’d brought me on) in the wilderness. It was bone achingly cold at night in the North Dakota wilderness. I’d tried asking him if I could hold onto him, partly because I was freezing, but mostly because I was scared. I’ll never forget how brusque he was as he scolded me for being weak. Only babies, sissy boys, and women _cuddled_. We were warriors and needed to stay sharp.

I never asked again after that.

Realizing what I was doing, I sat bolt upright. My heart hammering like crazy as I pulled away from Cas. He quirked his head to the side in reaction and questioned innocently, “Are you feeling ill?”

I was, but that took a back seat to my embarrassment.

Shaking my head (mistake) I muttered, “No, I’m fine.”

“Sam says you’ve been acting out.”

So, my brother _had_ been worried about me. Enough to call Cas.

Understandable I supposed. After dragging my inconsolable ass off the mountain and back to Diablo, I fell into shock. I refused to talk, or eat, or move. Sam stuffed me into the back seat of the Impala, packed up all our gear, and took me out of there. The first motel we stayed at was in Sedro-Woolley, a town about an hour and a half from Diablo. When he couldn’t get me to do much besides sleep, he moved me to Bellingham so he could check on the college kids.

I came out of it enough to sneak out and hunt down a liquor store. When I got back, Sam scolded me for leaving without telling him. I just ignored him and gruffly asked for his side of the story from back in the woods.

He said that after I disappeared, he himself had wandered through a maze until he came upon Isadora. She monologued about the Tikbalang. How she’d found it last winter in the Philippines and smuggled it back to Diablo. After the site manager, Jacob broke up with her, she started using the creature to get back at all the people who wronged her. Eventually that evolved into who she deemed unfit to go on living: bastards, flighty party animal college kids, adulterers, abusers, etc. He was held at gun point the whole time, waiting until she was distracted by her own story that he could manage to muscle it away from her. She tried coming at him with a knife in a desperate, last ditch effort, and he shot her dead.

After that, he searched for me, using his nose to close in on the smell of tobacco. At some point he remembered to flip his shirt inside out. And it worked. He was able to pass unnoticed and snuck in behind the Tikbalang. Using the spine that had skewered his arm earlier, he stabbed the creature through the heart.

“_I didn’t know if it would work,_” he admitted sheepishly. “_But I hoped it was one of those monsters that could be hurt by its own defenses._”

At this point he tried asking me about what the Tikbalang had made me see. I clammed up once again and drowned myself angrily in liquor. I guess he called Cas after that, in the hopes that someone else could get through to me when he couldn’t. Sam: always the advocate for talking about feelings.

Casting Castiel a sidelong glance, I swallowed hard and took in his facial expression. Calm and blank as usual. To the trained eye though, one could see the subtle quirk of his brow. He was thinking. That was for sure, but I couldn’t tell what about. 

“You…you saw what the Tikbalang made me see?” I asked tentatively, half wishing he would say no.

He nodded, eyes never leaving my own.

“Do you…did you get what it was about?” I asked shakily. I didn’t think I would be afraid to hear him say that he did. But I was. I was petrified.

At this his face melted seamlessly into a blank stare, giving me nothing. In that second, I was unexpectedly transported back to the woods, staring at the monster demanding I tell the fake Castiel my deepest darkest secret. My anxiety and doubts were choking the voice from my throat. A vision of Cas gurgling on his own blood, superimposed itself over the real one. I blinked, trying to get it to clear, but it was no use. 

Overwhelmingly I wished I could have taken back the last ten minutes and all that I showed him. I had to save him from me. I had to convince him that he’d put his faith in a monster.

“I care about you. A lot, but-…”

“I know.”

“You…what?”

His voice was quiet as he answered, “You’re my best friend.”

“Right…” I let out a trembling breath, trying hard not to notice how he didn't seem to want to look me in the eye.

I ran a hand through my hair in an effort to calm down, casting my eyes around the room at anything and everything. Why did I drink so damn much? After a moment of silence, Cas slid closer across the linoleum. I fought the urge to back up, and instead turned to face him.

I mumbled, “I don’t know how to say this, but you’re my family. Not like Sammy is but…I mean…”

“That’s beautiful, Dean but I don’t – “

“When I saw you dead, I–”

_Just fucking tell him the truth, Dean. Tell him that you would do anything for him. That you’re struggling with a desire that you don’t understand yourself and have never admitted was there._ I mentally shouted at myself, shutting my eyes tightly in frustration.

The room had been spinning slowly for a while and words were becoming more difficult to string together coherently. While professing feelings however, it had quickly gotten worse. As I sat sweating and feeling Cas’ warm breath puff against my face, I became drunkenly convinced that if I let go of him, I would go spiraling off into space. My stomach churned. Without warning, I ducked to the side and vomited all over the linoleum. The sound of it splashing against the flooring made me retch even harder.

Finally, I pulled back with a gasp and sat shaking, clammy, knowing that the partly digested alcohol that had just made a reappearance was going to make my throat hurt like a bitch in the morning. The smell of fresh bile was enough to make me want to throw up again, so I leaned away from it, noting that Cas was still there, arms ready to support my weight.

“Feelin’ kinda better now,” I mumbled, a haze of tiredness dropping on me like a weighted blanket.

I needed to finish what I was trying to tell him. It was important. But I was too far gone. Silently, the angel stood and gently tugged me to my feet. It was like my dead-drunk ass didn’t weigh anything. He slowly led me toward the closest of two twin extra-long beds. It was a relief that the acrid smell of sick was fading.

As he gently sat me down and guided my head toward the pillow, I grumbled his name sleepily. He came close, close enough for me to smell his naturally clean scent; something like faded aftershave. Speaking quietly, he asked, “Yes, Dean?”

“You’re…” I slurred, unable to even open my eyes I was so tired.

He tucked me in like I was a kid, but I didn’t mind. The last person to do it had been mom. I let my body sink into the mattress as the blanket settled over my body. Sitting on the edge next to me, Cas pressed his warm hand to my chest. That’s what I liked about him. He was a master at communicating quietly. Every gesture, no matter how small, was genuine and meant something. I’d seen it when we’d first met. I think that was how I could tell he was one of the good guys.

I don’t think I’ve ever told him I thought that. I probably should.

“Sleep,” he commanded softly.

I was out just like that.

The morning sun was just starting to brighten the sky beyond the thin curtains as I woke up. A throbbing headache pierced through the front of my skull and I groaned in pain. As I turned to hide my face from the light, I found myself rolling up against a leg. Squinting, I peered up and saw Castiel looking down at me. Everything that happened last night came flooding back. My lips thinned as I pressed them shut. Ignoring the heat gradually spreading from my cheeks to burn the tips of my ears, I buried my face back into the musty mattress beneath me.

“Morning,” I grumbled.

Placing his hand on my shoulder blade he asked, “Would you like me to get rid of your hangover?”

I started explaining hurriedly that he didn’t need to do that, thinking that even if it was uncomfortable it would give me some time to process; hide from him for a while. Ignoring me however, he reached down and pressed two fingers between the mattress and my forehead. Instantly, the hangover dissipated. My shoulders untensed.

I felt him lean toward my lower half and I flipped over in a panic, but he just gave me a confused look before reaching for my leg. Hovering his palm over my ankle, I watched as an intense light brightened his palm. Small granules of what looked like molten pearls drifted down and gradually, the pain dissipated. When he was done, I pushed myself into a sitting position and tested it. I relished the absence of the aching pain that had been there before.

“Thanks, Cas.” I said, glancing over at him. His face was paler than it had been a moment ago. “You alright?”

He nodded, the muscles of his jaw clenching ever so slightly.

He shouldn’t strain himself. Not after losing his grace, getting it back, and then getting locked out of heaven. Damn him if he was still willing to use his powers. Not for someone like me.

Sensing my guilt, he placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “I was happy to help.”

Avoiding looking into his soulful blue eyes, I looked away and focused on the faded door to the motel room. That was when I noticed I was no longer wearing the same clothing I’d had on the night before.

Plucking at the fresh shirt, I asked, “Dude, did you change me?”

“Yes, you vomited on yourself.”

He gestured at the trashcan on the other side of the bed.

“Great,” I muttered, immediately imagining him stripping my unconscious, barf-covered body.

Peering at me from out of the corner of his eye he mumbled, “I thought about what you said last night.”

_Crap. I wish I could take all that drunken babble back. You need to leave me alone. I’m dangerous. You should run and never look back._ I pleaded in my head, missing the days when he had enough power to pluck the thoughts directly from my mind without having to touch me.

“That creature was wrong,” he said earnestly, blue eyes seeking out my own. “The people who choose to help you, do it willingly.”

I was struck dumb. Castiel had never been a man of many words. So, it made hearing these ones very difficult.

“Thanks Cas,” I mumbled, clearing my throat as I scooted away from him. My inner thoughts beginning to spiral down once more.

No longer belligerent with alcohol, I kept my mouth shut while my insecurities quietly choked my desires to be honest back to where they’d been hidden for so many years. Castiel of course noticed. He adjusted his position to face me head on and looked like he was about to say something, but I panicked. Shooting to my feet, I sidestepped over to my jacket flung across the small couch on the other side of the room and grumbled, “We should see if Sam is awake.”

“Sure,” the angel answered.

I could see the way his dark brows furrowed over his hauntingly blue eyes that he was upset. Cursing myself quietly, but unable to take back what I said, I dug my keys out of my pocket. I stubbornly avoided looking in his direction and ignored him saying my name.

My body tensed at the sound. Cas was not one to sound upset under any circumstances; now he did. An indescribable urge to turn back nearly overcame me. Fuck, I _yearned_ to do it. Taking a shuddering breath, I shut my eyes for a brief moment. Deep inside, next to the gaping tear that forty years in hell had left, I felt a forgotten wound pulse weakly. It fought to burst through the carefully constructed walls that years of abuse had built. I was afraid of that feeling. Just as much as I was afraid of the horrors I’d seen in the pit.

I slipped out of the door.

Cas followed after. Quietly. The guilt in my chest increased as I struggled to ignore his presence. I hammered my fist against Sam’s door. It didn’t matter if I woke up the whole motel. I just needed to do something to distract myself.

Eventually, my brother emerged. Rubbing at his sleep filled eyes. He blinked through the early morning light to the pair of us standing before him. Voice still thick with sleep he asked, “Dean? What…?”

“Morning Sleeping Beauty,” I cut in, fidgeting with the keys in my pocket. “We going to hit the road soon, or are you going to sleep the day away?”

Still looking confused but sobering up quickly, Sam glanced from me to Cas in quick succession and asked, “You feeling better?”

“Just peachy.”

A moment of tense silence passed before Cas piped up helpfully, “I removed his hangover.”

Sam’s face fell as I offered up half of a smile like I was silently saying, ‘_See? Right as_ _rain._’. Not wanting to look any longer at the infuriatingly empathetic concern deeply creasing the skin on his forehead, I turned to head toward the Impala. All I could think of was slamming my foot on the accelerator and putting this whole mess as far in the rear-view mirror as I could. Unfortunately, I only made it about three steps before my heart sank.

Voice still thick with sleep, Sam asked, “Hey Cas, you wanna combine forces for a hunt?”

I froze.

Either choosing to ignore my sudden change, or not noticing it at all, Sam continued, “An old contact of Dad’s called last night. Said there was something weird going on in Ashland, Oregon. Could use the backup on this one if you’re interested.”

Keeping my movements in check, I turned just enough to catch a glimpse of the familiar trench coat and the slouched shoulders under it. If Cas looked in my direction, I couldn’t tell. But his voice held no hesitation as he answered, “Of course. I will follow in my vehicle.”

Keeping my head down and my hands stuffed deep into my pockets I stalked across the parking lot to Baby sitting in the shade of two large pine trees. I stared down at the dusty orange needles that had died and fallen, lodging themselves under Baby’s wind shield wipers. Normally I would want to clean it up, make her presentable. But as of now normal had disappeared.

_Just what in the hell am I going to do? That Tikbalang totally screwed me. I can’t even look at my own fucking car right anymore. _

I didn’t even react as Sam came up next to my still form. He glanced over his shoulder, giving Castiel an attempt at a happy wave goodbye. As the sound of Cas’ crappy car started up, I felt like my chest was trying to crush itself with the effort of holding back the tears that so desperately wanted to flow. I stubbornly insisted to myself that there was absolutely no reason to be upset in the first place. Nothing happened. Nothing ever would.

The jangle of the keys rang out like church bells as I handed them over to Sam. Without even looking at him I could see the surprise on his face. Not wanting to keep Cas waiting any longer, Sam deftly hooked his finger through the key ring and lifted it from my palm. A second later and I was lowering myself into the passenger seat of the Impala, ignoring the incredulous look from my little brother.

Propping my chin on my fist and staring out the window at the half barren branches of the deciduous trees around us, I told myself to stay calm. I felt like a raw nerve exposed to the elements and a numb ghost of what I once was at the same time. A strange contradiction that left me angry and exhausted, craving nothing more than solitude.

Couldn’t really escape Sam though. Even as I pressed my forehead harder and harder against the cool glass of the window to will myself asleep, I could sense the questions building up between us. The car was silent aside from the familiar hum of the engine as we headed south. Hours passed. Somewhere around Olympia, Washington my brother finally worked up the courage to ask softly, “Seriously, what happened back in Diablo?”

“Nothing, man.” I sighed. “I already told you-”

“Yeah, I’m not buying that,” he cut in. “Dean, you can’t keep telling me that you’re fine when you’re very obviously not. First you were catatonic, then angry and drunk, and now you’re-you’re a _passenger_ in your own car!”

Shifting in my seat to address him more directly I said, “Okay, so I’m feeling a little under the weather. Sue me. It’s been a long couple of days.”

Risking a few moments of lapsed attention on the road, he turned and glared at me before saying, “Stop making light of this. You’re not _under the weather_. Whatever’s going on you need to talk about it. I mean, didn’t Cas-”

“Cas has enough to worry about besides babysitting me.” I cut in, my voice losing some of its intensity as his bloody, choking face flashed into my mind. I attempted swallowing past the thickness that had formed in my throat, but that only made it more apparent. “You should have kept him out of this.”

“He loves us like family,” Sam muttered, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “I’m not going to shut him out.”

Seeing my lack of response, Sam glanced at me out of the corner of his eye before focusing back on the road. His mouth worked as he struggled to speak. Finally, he sighed, “Just…get some rest.”

Sam subtext: _Don’t think we’re done talking about this. _

After another long sigh he chose to keep his eyes fixed on the road ahead and his mouth shut. It wasn’t like I was entirely glad that he did. My chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself. And I wanted nothing more than to make it stop. How do I talk about this though? Where would I even start? Pushing back into the leather seats, I turned my gaze out the window again and waited for the sensation to pass. 

Rain pelted the Impala. A chill ran up my body as a faint breeze ghosted over. I crossed my arms tightly over my chest in an effort to conserve heat. Nestling my head into the space where the car seat met with the window, I muttered for Sam to turn up the heat. Silence. Not just Sam’s lack of response, but the Impala wasn’t running. My eyes shot open.

“Sam?” I called, ignoring the sensation of my throat thickening with worry.

The seat next to me was empty and the door was wide open. Beyond was darkness. Unable to tear my eyes away, I felt blindly for the doorknob while reaching back to my back where my pistol had been tucked away. My door swung out with a loud creek that was quickly swallowed by the constant rush of rain. I whipped around, my pistol trembling slightly in my hand as I realized that this was the clearing from back in Diablo.

Did we not defeat the Tikbalang? Were we still trapped on the mountain?

“Sammy?!”

After years hunting monsters and feeling the same rush of adrenaline each time, the familiar sensation steadied my hand. The air huffing through my nose billowed into the darkness as I slowly turned. Down the barrel of my gun I caught sight of Castiel’s car. It too was sitting dark and vacant. My stomach felt like someone had run up and punched a hole through it.

My gun dropped to my side as I sprinted around the back of the Impala. The other car’s driver side door was also open and beneath it was Sam face first in the dirt. I dropped to my knees at his side immediately checking for wounds and a pulse.

He was breathing but there was a large gash above his brow. Fisting his jacket in my hand, I looked around for what could have attacked. Jostling my brother slightly when I saw nothing but darkness, I asked, “Sam, where’s Cas?”

Of course, I didn’t get an answer. Sam remained unconscious. I got to my feet and hollered, “Cas?!”

Whispers as faint and indistinct as a breeze reached my ears. It didn’t seem to come from anywhere in particular, and yet it was all around me. I whipped around; gun ready. A chill swept down my spine like someone or something had run their finger along its length. I stiffened, waiting for the inevitable attack. Instead, something warm and wet plopped onto my cheek. Startled, I reached up. Pulling my fingers away I saw blood.

I looked up. There, impaled on branches of the dense canopy, was Castiel. His blue eyes were wide and his mouth open in a silent scream. As I screamed his name, a burst of angry flames spread out from behind him. Suddenly the whole forest was on fire. I screamed and screamed unable to do anything.

“Dean!”

I bolted upright, panting. Suddenly I was back in the Impala’s passenger seat. The sky outside was bright. Shaking, I glanced down at my sweat soaked shirt and then over at Sam. His face was white as he stared at me with question in his eyes. My dream, still fresh, flashed into my mind and my stomach lurched.

I muttered darkly, “Pull over.”

Sam did. Before the car came to a full stop, I launched myself out into the fresh air. Stumbling about two steps, I let the contents of my stomach splatter onto the ground at my feet. It wasn’t much. As I continued to dry heave, my body trembling uncontrollably, I heard Castiel pull up behind the Impala.

“Fuck,” I muttered weakly, wiping at my mouth with the back of my hand.

“Are you alright, Dean?” the angel asked, his deep gravelly voice laced with concern.

“Fine.” I gasped, trying to get the continuous roiling of my stomach under control. “It’s nothing.”

That fooled no one. Panting, I finally looked around at the pair staring intently at me. Sam in particular. He’d been the one to pull me out of my nightmare after all. As I mentally told my brother to shut up, I didn’t pay attention to Castiel coming closer. The familiar pressure of his hand against my shoulder – over the mark he’d left when he saved my sorry ass from hell – startled me. I jerked back like his touch burned.

Instantly I regretted doing that. As I looked up into Cas’ face, I could see the hurt and confusion flit briefly through eyes that looked even more blue in this light. Unable to stand whatever it was that was going on at this moment, I shot to my feet and started walking down the embankment.

In the near distance there looked to be a small ocean side town. I set my sights on that, ignoring the concerned calls of my name.

We watched my brother’s sweat-soaked back in silence as he stalked away. Turning to Castiel I gave him an apologetic look. Ignoring that, he asked, “What happened?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. He fell asleep and started having a nightmare.”

I watched as the smaller man’s eyes softened slightly around the edges. I noted his hand slowly forming a fist at his side, but he stayed quiet. Now he was giving me the silent treatment too? I thought I was going to be able to keep my nose out of it like I figured Dean would want, but seeing this, there's no way that was an option anymore.

“What’s going on Cas? What did he tell you?”

The lines of the angel’s face hardened again as he met my gaze. He wanted to protect my brother, I could tell, but I could also see that he didn’t understand how to do that. After a moment he finally said, “He allowed me access to his memories. I saw all that happened with you and Dean in Diablo.”

“You mean you saw what the Tikbalang made him see?” I asked, going back to that night and wondering if Castiel knew that Dean had been clutching a vision of his dead body in the end.

Castiel nodded reverently but again, did not elaborate. Frustrated, I ran my hands through my hair and took a step back. After a few calming breaths and one last comb through the hair, I asked slowly, “Was it bad?”

If the angel hadn’t been eerily still before, he certainly was now. His body tensed and he cast his eyes away, off in the direction Dean had disappeared. Despite wanting to order him to tell me, I allowed him a grace period.

“Yes,” Castiel answered, voice deep with emotion. “The parts of himself that he is most ashamed of were laid bare before him.”

My eyes widened.

Cas glanced at me before turning to face the gray waters of the Pacific Ocean. Looking far beyond the horizon the angel continued, “You were dead, but you spoke to him. You blamed him for Jessica and for bringing you on the road. He saw your father and brother and they spoke of his weakness as a man. He saw me -”

Already it was a lot to unpack. He saw me dead? Did Dean really believe I thought he was responsible for what happened to Jessica? Responsible for any of it? Who was I kidding? Of course, he would think that. Leave it to my martyr brother to let everything fall on his shoulders.

“Cas?” I asked after a moment, realizing that he'd fallen silent.

For the first time in a long time, the angel looked tired. Bone-weary tired. He reached up and rubbed at his eyes as he mumbled, “I believe he holds guilt in regards to my loyalty. But there is something else that I don’t understand and…I do not know how to explain.”

Cas finally met my gaze again, the lost look in his eyes pulling at a place deep in my chest. I knew full well what he meant about the loyalty. Dean had never said as much himself, but I could see it in his face when he thought no one was paying attention. Hell, sometimes I thought so too. We had dragged an angel down from heaven, away from family, away from paradise.

“Why can’t he talk to me?”

The question was as expected as the look of genuine pain that flashed across the angel's face. The breath evaporated from my lungs at the sight. Cas’ voice had been quiet. Almost like he hadn’t wanted me to hear.

Taking a step closer, I placed my hand on his arm and smiled as best I could, “You and me both…”

The desire to diffuse the tension with humor had been so great that I hadn’t thought too much about continuing the conversation between us. I realized my blunder as soon as Castiel tensed under my palm and pulled away from me. He definitely hadn't wanted me to hear him.

After clearing his throat, he asked, “What should we do now Sam?”

For a split second, I wanted to be angry with him. Not even sure why. But almost as soon as the feeling flashed through my heart, it fizzled out. I looked at the smaller man and thought of my brother and I wondered about what I could have done differently to make this situation not suck as much as it did.

Releasing a heavy sigh, I gave him one last pat on the shoulder before muttering, “We make sure he doesn’t go and do something stupid.”


	7. Ashland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys make their way south toward Ashland, Oregon to investigate two deaths shrouded in mystery. The three focus on doing what they do best, but when something happens to Sam, will Dean confront his feelings for Castiel that were shown to him back in Diablo?

I assured Cas that we didn’t need to force Dean back into the car…yet. We just had to wait and watch and make sure that he didn’t start any fights. Castiel had a problem with that. Why would we leave Dean to his own devices? That seemed counter-productive to healing, etc.

Turning the ignition in the Impala, I waited for the familiar roar of the engine before answering, “Dean is the type to need space when he’s…_feeling_.”

Glancing at Castiel in the passenger seat, I saw him nodding in understanding before mumbling distractedly, “Dean does have immense difficulty expressing himself.”

“Yeah,” I chuckled bitterly, checking to make sure I could merge back onto the highway before doing so. “He gets overwhelmed and needs time to process.”

“Process?”

As I pulled off onto the exit that would lead us back to the little town, I risked a glance at him. Seeing that I didn’t understand, Cas continued, “If he processes as you say, then why can he not express that process once he has concluded?”

_My question exactly_, I thought.

“I wish I had an answer, Cas. I really do.”

We fell into tense silence, both of us going down our own train of dark thoughts.

There were two bars in town but Dean wasn’t at either of them. Next, we checked the local diner, but still nothing. A heavy knot of worry started up in my gut. My brother wouldn’t be stupid enough to go and hurt himself directly. He would find others to do the punishing for him. With that in mind we checked every shady looking place, which were few in numbers considering how small this place was. But still he was nowhere in sight.

After ducking inside a shifty looking pawn shop, I strode back to the Impala and noticed Castiel standing next to the hood of the car gazing unseeing in the direction of the ocean. It was turning into a grey day. Formless clouds spread across the sky, blocking out the warmth of the sun. It made the smaller man look paler than ever. I couldn’t help but think that the angel looked sad in this light, refreshing the deep sensation of guilt I knew both my brother and I shared.

“He wasn’t in there either.”

I came up next to Castiel and sat back against the hood of the car, letting out a long sigh.

He didn’t respond at first – kept gazing out at the dark water. Eventually though, he turned his chin in my direction, and asked, “Do you think he would be…?”

I followed his gaze, my eyes tracing the beach. It was unlike him. I mean, Dean Winchester walking a stormy beach brooding sounded more like one of the chick flick movies he pretended not to like.

“C’mon,” I muttered. “Let’s go check.”

Cas made a sound of agreement.

The pair of us found our way through the unfamiliar roads to a small parking lot that abutted the beach. Two cars were already there, clearly full of suitcases and other road trip amenities. I didn’t see any families though. In fact, all I saw was a lone boulder near the waterline and the man sitting atop it. I would recognize those shoulders anywhere. So did Castiel. But as the angel started toward him, I threw out my hand and caught his chest.

He could have pushed past me easily. But his large blue eyes turned to me in question. I shook my head, silently telling him we would do more harm than good if we were to go out there right now. I could see that it pained Cas, but reluctantly he turned and headed back toward the Impala. I stood for a moment, worry knitting my brows together. Something really was wrong if Dean wasn’t trying to pick a fight or get stupid drunk.

To give Dean (and us) time to think, I took Cas back up to town and pulled in at the diner. I sent Dean a text saying we’d be waiting for him there.

Once inside and situated at one of the lonely booths near the back window, I pulled out my laptop. Might as well get started on the case if we had to wait around. The waitress nervously asked if we wanted to get started with some waters. She was young and seemed new to the job.

“No thanks,” I said with a smile, looking over at Castiel who had been staring out the window in the direction Dean was as soon as we sat down. “Could we get a couple coffees though?”

She bobbed her head, glancing at the silent man across from me before hurrying off. Adjusting the place settings and condiments on the table to make room for researching, I shot another look at the unmoving man in front of me and commented, “Worrying isn’t going to make him come back any sooner, Castiel.”

Finally, he broke away, blinking over at me. He seemed to realize the truth to my words and bowed his head. Not wanting him to sink into dark thoughts, I said hurriedly, “Why don’t we go over the case together? Keep ourselves occupied.”

He nodded and adjusted his position so he faced me directly. Just as I was pulling up Ashland, Oregon on my computer to give him the details, Cas asked quietly, “Do you think Dean is ready for another hunt?”

I paused. Cas knew Dean almost as well as I did. He knew the answer to that question. All three of us were experts when it came to getting the job done regardless of what was going on personally. Castiel locked eyes with me and I could see the silent question there; the real one.

_Should we _stop_ him from going on this hunt?_

“I get it,” I said, abandoning my laptop to give him my full attention. “We always say we’ll deal with it later and we never do.”

Cas’ face darkened.

I tried thinking of something else to say. Something to comfort him. To let him know that it would be different this time. But even I wasn’t sure. Dean wasn’t doing well. Whatever had gone down had him really freaked. I took in a deep breath and said, “Listen, I’m worried too, but there’s not a lot we can do about it if he doesn’t want to talk.”

“Here’s your coffee,” the waitress said, cautiously placing two steaming mugs in front of us. “Would you like any creamer?”

Her innocent eyes went to each of us before Castiel wrapped his fingers around his mug and said, “No, this is fine.”

She seemed relieved he had finally spoken. Flashing us a small smile she said, “I’ll be back in a bit to check on you.”

I waited a moment after she left to see if Cas was going to continue worrying about Dean. He let out a defeated sigh before motioning to my laptop and asking, “What’s the case?”

“Right, so back in the day, my Dad helped out a family in Peoria, Illinois with a poltergeist problem.” I explained, watching Cas’ sad expression slowly neutralize as I did. “The family’s oldest daughter Helena was the one who called. She just took the mortician position in Ashland. Said that a couple bodies were brought in that, according to her, are ‘our kind of weird’.”

“How so?”

I took a tentative sip of my steaming coffee before answering, “Both of the victims had partially digested dog food in their stomachs. One of the victims, Thomas Waithe, went missing last month for about two weeks before they found his body in the middle of the main road. Seems he’d been struck by a vehicle. Gail Heavensby went missing right after they found Thomas’ body. They found her a little outside of town, also in the middle of the road, also struck by a vehicle.”

“Very peculiar,” Cas nodded, seemingly invested. “Ordinary humans _would_ find that sort of meal repulsive.”

“Uh…yeah.”

“Perhaps the local pet store is cursed?” Cas offered. I could see dozens of options running through his mind, each one more far-fetched than the last.

I shook my head and laughed.

“Good – good idea.”

Castiel nodded reticently.

Glancing at him I cleared my throat and continued, “I told Helena somebody eating dog food was weird but not unheard of and she told me that both of the victims had strange collars around their necks inscribed with sigils.”

“Do you have pictures?”

“No, haven’t had good enough reception for a while. And the WiFi here sucks. She still has one of the bodies though. And the collars are in evidence lockup at Ashland PD.”

After that, I gave him some basic information about the town. Ashland, Oregon: home to the Shakespeare Festival, Southern Oregon University, and about 22,000 people. We spent the next two hours drinking cheap diner coffee, reading up on whatever we could think of, and trying not to think of Dean. Just after putting in an order for dinner, I heard the bell above the door chime loudly. For a brief moment the sound of coastal wind roared. Loose napkins were scattered. I turned quickly and caught sight of my brother.

He looked pale, sullen, and soaked through. Thankfully he had a look of gritty determination in his eyes that only showed up when he’d managed to sort through his problems enough to be functional. Catching sight of us, he strode over. I was surprised when he elbowed Castiel and grunted for him to make some room. The angel also looked a little astonished, but quickly obliged.

Taking in the laptop and random papers, Dean glanced between us and asked, “So what’s the case?”

Trying to suppress the urge to frown, I started in on catching him up to speed. We ate dinner before heading out. It was good to see his appetite was back in full force. It was also just as disgusting watching him stuff his face. Back to normal, I guess.

Dean snagged the keys from me as we headed outside. By the time we got back to Cas’ car and dropped him off, it was dark. It seemed everything was back to normal. At least for the moment. I snuck a glance at him out of the corner of my eye as the Impala sped south along I-5, street lights casting brief pillars of light across his stoic face as we went. He saw me looking.

“What?”

“You okay?”

His knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel. “Good enough for the hunt if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Dean, that’s not–”

“Save it.” He cut in. “I’m over it, Sammy. And you should be too.”

High-functioning train wrecks. That’s what we were. I rolled my eyes and huffed but didn’t comment any further. We got to Ashland about an hour later.

After about five hours of sleep, I woke and quietly changed into jogging clothes and slipped out of the motel. For the next forty minutes I ran through the sleepy streets of Ashland, noting different shops as I went. Hardly anyone was awake yet, but I could smell fresh bread and coffee. My stomach grumbled in appreciation.

Outside the motel when I returned, I found Castiel next to the cars. He stood with his hands in the pockets of his trench coat staring up at the trees. I slowed my pace, breathing heavily and called, “Hey Cas…”

“Sam,” he answered, still staring into the branches. “How was your run?”

“Good,” I exhaled, glancing from him to the motel room. “What’re you doing out here?”

“Thinking.”

I chuckled, leaning against the back of the Impala. Rubbing at my legs I asked, “Dean awake?”

He nodded, casting his eyes down at his feet before turning them to me. He was out here avoiding my brother. Both of us knew it.

“I’m going to change.” I said, not looking forward to avoiding another confrontation with him. “We’ll talk about a game plan when we come out.”

Castiel nodded again, turning his attention back to the trees around us. Pushing off the car, I headed for our room. Standing in front of the door, I took in a steadying breath. Inside Dean was already donning his suit. Drops of water still clung to his freshly washed skin and made his dark blonde hair look even darker.

His green eyes looked me over critically before he grunted in greeting. He looked tired and pale.

“You feeling okay?” I asked, knowing he would hate being asked that even before it got past my lips.

He grunted again, brows furrowing.

_I’ll take that as a yes_, I thought to myself. “Cas is waiting outside. Figured we can come up with a plan and then roll out.”

I rolled my eyes when he once again communicated with a grumble. I showered quickly, rinsing the sweat from my body, and changed into my own suit. Dean remained inside, using my laptop to pull up information on Ashland. When I emerged from the bathroom, toweling the ends of my dampened hair and straightening my tie he called over, “This place is known for their Shakespeare festival? Seriously?”

“They don’t just do Shakespeare plays though,” I answered. “There’s a lot of experimental stuff that they put on.”

“Right…let’s just hope we don’t run into another Supernatural play.”

I nodded emphatically.

Trying not to be put off by Castiel standing further away from me than normal, I turned my attention on Sam. He’d just proposed that we split up. Which didn’t sound like a bad idea so long as I got to be alone. That of course wasn’t in my cards. Not with the look Sam was giving me. I could see in his forehead wrinkles that having me on my own was the last thing he wanted.

“Why don’t you two go to the morgue.” I said nonchalantly, scratching agitatedly at the back of my neck. I could see the refusal on his lips so I continued, “I mean, you were the one that talked with that chick on the phone, Sammy. You got a rep going.”

“Helena.” Sam supplied.

I nodded, motioning to him as if to say, ‘_See? This is what I’m talking about. No better man for the job_.’

“Perhaps I should go to the police station.” Castiel offered, breaking his long streak of silence. “I have more knowledge of sigils.”

It wasn’t a bad idea. On any other normal day, I would consider it, especially because he did know more about ancient languages. But the angel didn’t have a good track record with people and communication in general.

“You’re not the best at keeping a low profile, man.”

Cas’ blue eyes suddenly locked onto my own. “I have been practicing.”

I blinked in surprise, suddenly only able to focus on his pursed chapped lips.

“Okay,” Sam said, glancing between the pair of us. “Dean and I will go to the morgue and do the interviews. Let us know if you need us.”

Cas turned to go to his car. Instantly my gut clenched and my instinct was to reach out and hold him back. My hand twitched in his direction. I think Sam might have seen. But I managed to stop myself and pass it off as me trying to flex my hands.

“C’mon,” I muttered, heading to the Impala.

It didn’t take long to get to the morgue. About a ten-minute drive in the opposite direction Cas went. My hands felt clammy and slipped along the leather wrapped around the steering wheel as dark thoughts welled up. I tried remembering that he was a capable Angel of the Lord, but then my nightmare engulfed in fire would flash through my mind.

Due to how short our ride was, Sam didn’t get the chance to give me any of his empathetic crap. To keep it that way, I jumped out of the Impala and took the lead in the direction of the small one-story office building. Inside was clean and painted in cool pastels. The woman at the front desk smiled happily and called out from between two vases of flowers, “What can I help you gentlemen with?”

“Morning,” Sam greeted, opening his suit jacket and reaching in to pull out his badge.

I followed smoothly and said, “FBI.”

Her eyes widened as we stuffed the badges back where they belonged. She licked her lips nervously and asked, “What brings you boys here?”

“We need to see your head mortician, Helena Fuentes.” Sam said, giving the woman a polite smile.

“She’s not in trouble, is she?”

“No, ma’am. We’re hoping Ms. Fuentes can shed some light on an ongoing case of ours.”

“Golly,” she breathed, pale chest turning red and splotchy with stress at the thought. “Of course. She’s back in her office. Right this way.”

She stood, nervously smoothing her pencil skirt as she took off at a quick trot down the left hallway. Normally I would appreciate the sway of her hips as she hurried along, but my mind was about five miles to the west wondering if Cas was doing alright.

After a minute of walking down the highly polished tiled in the hallway, we came to a door with ‘Dr. Helena Fuentes’ etched on the glass. The lights were on inside, but the blinds were down. Sam glanced to me silently telling me to keep my guard up. My hand pulled back my jacket so I had easy access to the gun tucked into my belt.

“Helena? There’s two men here to see you.” The secretary called, casting a nervous glance over her shoulder at Sam towering behind her. “They say they’re FBI.”

The door jerked open, revealing a woman who looked to be the same age as Sam. Her wild brown curls bounced around her heart shaped face and into her hazel eyes as she hurriedly looked between us. I watched as she swallowed past the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat, “Thanks Mallory. I’ve uh…I’ve got it from here.”

Mallory looked utterly disturbed but chose not to comment. Instead, she gave Helena a look that said she better get an explanation later, before heading back up the hall at a steady clip. Helena barely gave the secretary a second glance before she was ushering me and my brother inside. Giving us a cursory once over, she strode over to her desk in the worst display of faux calm that I’d seen in a while. I couldn’t help but smirk a little. It was kind of cute.

Gingerly taking her seat she asked with a slight tremble in her voice, “What can I do for the FBI?”

Sam’s eyes softened into his trademark puppy dog look as he said, “Helena, I’m Sam Winchester, and this is my brother –”

“Oh my God, I am so happy to see you!” she burst, her hands shooting up to tangle in her mess of brown curls. “You have no idea how freaked out I’ve been!”

“I can only imagine.” I muttered, earning a glare from Sam.

The small Latina woman shot up from her chair and nearly dove head-first into a filing cabinet. After a moment she withdrew two files and slapped them down on the desk before us. Nervously running her fingers through her hair once more she explained, “I already told you a little bit about the victims Thomas Waithe and Gail Heavensby, both went missing, then turned up dead from blunt force trauma, and both had on weird collars.”

Sam and I nodded.

“Okay, so it gets weirder. Jesus, like the dog food in their stomachs wasn’t already weird,” she mumbled, words tumbling over each other. “You need to follow me.”

And like that she was off. Sam and I stayed on her heels. Around the corner from her office was a set of heavy double doors. As soon as we stepped inside the temperature noticeably dropped. She made a beeline for the back wall and wrenched open one of the human sized drawers. On the slab was who I assumed to be Gail, a twenty something year old with a shock of blonde hair. She looked utterly wrecked. Cuts and bruises littered her body.

“When Thomas was brought in and I was doing my initial examination I thought that some of the malformations on his body were due to the trauma he sustained,” she explained, a light sheen of sweat developing on her brow. “But when Gail was brought in, I saw more of the same.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, brows nearly touching in the center of his face as he wondered what this mortician was talking about.

Holding up a finger, she rushed over to the x-ray display and switched on the backlight. As she put up each image she continued, “The family won’t let me perform an exploratory autopsy, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t still examine her bones using other means.”

There were still more images left on the table, but the ones displayed looked strange. Squinting slightly at the x-ray of the pelvic area I asked, “Is that a –”

“Tail? Yes.”

My eyes widened. Helena nodded knowingly, snapping a pair of gloves on and striding back to Gail’s body. With a surprising amount of strength, she tilted the body up so we could get a better look at the girl’s back. More bruising and cuts painted an ugly picture of her death. Pointing at the base of her spine Helena said, “It’s hard to see due to the discoloration, but it’s there. And look at this…”

Gently pushing Gail’s arm out of the way, she pointed to a spot beneath the armpit. Helena continued, “There’s a slight protrusion on each side. Those would be from her shoulder blades having shifted.”

Placing the girl back on the metal slab, Helena went back to the x-rays and produced two and explained feverishly, “Her doctor sent these over; they’re from a bike accident she had two years ago.”

Helena snapped the images into place over the backlight. The difference in the two was staggering. In the earlier, her shoulder bones were where they should be. In the more recent one, they had shifted nearly three inches down her sides. Getting closer I asked faintly, “Are they broken?”

“No,” Helena whispered, fingers going to her hair again making it stand out even more from her scalp. “That’s just it, her bones shifted somehow. And not because of any degenerative bone diseases I’ve seen. It’s not possible.”

I could see the thoughts raging through Sam’s head already as he asked, “Why do you say that?”

“The skeletal structure presents like that of an animal. As soon as I realized I was dealing with something…supernatural, I called you.”

My mouth was hanging open slightly. Struggling to form words, I cleared my throat and asked hoarsely, “I’m sorry, did you just say that whatever is in Ashland is turning people into animals?”

She nodded, biting her bottom lip. The petite woman looked on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. Sam noticed as well and stepped forward to place his hand comfortingly against her trembling shoulders. He muttered gently, “You did the right thing.”

It had to be witches. It was the only way to explain the sigils and the transformations. But why kill them?

“Who found the bodies?” I asked, scanning the x-rays again.

Sniffling and rubbing at her nose, Helena shook her head and said thickly, “I’m not sure. Ivan…I mean, Officer Oblonsky was the first to respond. I think he said something about an anonymous tip.”

“Thanks Helena,” Sam said, giving her one last squeeze on her shoulder as he slipped the card with both our numbers on it out of his pocket. “Let us know if you find anything else out of the ordinary.”

She nodded, clutching the small piece of paper in her hands like it was a lifeline. I had to give her credit; she did a pretty good job at keeping her panic in check. Most people tended to freak at this point. Perhaps the early introduction to the supernatural when she was a girl was helping with coping now.

As we walked out of the chilled morgue toward the front entrance I muttered quietly, “It’s going to be tricky tracking down a witch. Was there anything linking the victims?”

“Not that I could find. Maybe the families will be able to help with that.”

Sliding into the driver’s seat of the Impala, I took out my phone from my pocket and pulled up the messages. Nothing new from Castiel, which could be a good or a bad thing. Hoping it was the former, I shot him a quick text updating him about our plans.

“Anything from Cas?” Sam asked trying really hard to sound casual.

“No.”

The engine roared to life, sending the familiar vibrations through the steering wheel. I grumbled for him to pull up directions to the first victim’s house and headed out of the parking lot. As I cruised down main street, I noted that the place looked a lot livelier than it had about an hour ago. People of all shapes, sizes, and ages walked along the thoroughfare, peering in through windows and pointing out the sights.

On paper Ashland sounded like a small, quiet town. In person it felt full and alive. Turning off the road I noted a pair of college aged students wearing ‘ye olde time’ jester outfits handing out flyers on the corner. It made a small part of me wonder what was currently playing at one of many theaters around.

Thankfully the ride to the first victim’s house was quiet. I let out a happy sigh as we emerged from the Impala and headed up to the front porch. The pair of us stood before the navy-blue door while the bell echoed through the house, announcing our presence. A middle-aged man, small in stature, opened the door. Mr. Waithe. His small pale eyes were rimmed with red and moved sluggishly as he looked us over. We held up our badges in unison while Sam performed introductions.

Confusion registered across Mr. Waithe’s face for a moment before he asked in a voice barely louder than a whisper, “FBI?”

“Yes, sir. We were hoping to ask you some questions about your son’s death.”

The man fidgeted with the door, clearly wondering if he could shut the door on us. Once the brief thought passed, he said, “I’ve already talked with the police…”

“We’re just following up.” I chimed in, making a neutral gesture. “Just want to make sure we have all the information we need to get answers.”

Mr. Waithe nodded vacantly, raising a glass full of amber liquid to his lips that I hadn’t noticed was in his other hand. He led the way into the sitting room which looked to have seen better days. Empty bottles and stray garbage lay strewn about the furniture and floor. The faint smell of unwashed body permeated the otherwise pleasant room. He sat gingerly on the edge of one of the sitting chairs, carefully adjusting his grip on the glass in his hand. Rubbing at his splotched face Mr. Waithe asked, “So, what is it you boys want to know?”

“Before your son went missing, did you notice anything unusual? Any changes in his behavior…mood?”

“Thomas and I…we didn’t really talk much in the end.”

It was such a blatant statement; painful.

“We’re sorry for your loss Mr. Waithe,” Sam said, noting my sudden quiet. “We’ll be out of here as quick as possible. Did your son have any new acquaintances?”

“Of course,” Mr Waithe muttered, taking a long pull off the glass of whiskey. “He was working on the set design for a new play. That’s where he met his friends and his…his _boyfriend_.”

The man’s voice cracked on the word boyfriend, and suddenly I knew why they hadn’t been talking before Thomas’ death. The blood drained from my face as I asked, “Would his boyfriend be the same Joel Brown that reported him missing?”

Mr. Waithe nodded, gulping down the last of what was in his drink. A tear fell from his eye as he leaned over to retrieve the bottle off the floor next to his chair. He wiped at it discreetly. When he came back up his voice trembled, “I didn’t even know my boy was gone…”

We weren’t going to get much else from Mr. Waithe. I shot Sam a look and saw that he was thinking the same thing. Keeping his voice soft Sam asked, “Can we speak with your wife?”

“She left,” Mr. Waithe croaked, gazing listlessly about the room. “Packed up just after we identified Thomas’ body.”

“I think we have all the information we need.” Sam said, getting to his feet. “Thank you for…for speaking with us Mr. Waithe.”

The man didn’t acknowledge our departure, just continued staring blankly at the glass in his hand. All I could think about was how similar this man was to my own father.

I followed Sam out silently. After shutting the door, I started toward the car and said determinedly, “If we’re going to get anywhere with this we need to divide and conquer.”

Sam turned instantly, his eyes saying ‘no’ before his mouth could. I stopped in my tracks, blocked by his Sasquatch-ness. I held up my hand and continued fiercely, “I get that you’re worried about me, but we need to get answers before this happens again.”

For a moment, his long arms moved as if he wanted to physically restrain me. They moved back after a moment of thought. He flexed his hands indecisively at his sides. He knew I was right. Innocent people were in danger. There was no time to dick around.

Letting out a frustrated groan, Sam relented, “Fine.”

“I’ll go talk to Gail’s family,” I continued, the image of Mr. Waithe’s red-rimmed eyes conjuring fresh feelings of empathy and anger. “You should see what Joel Brown has to say.”

“Check in when you’re done with the family.”

I rolled my eyes before grunting agreement.

I dropped Sam off near Joel Brown’s apartment before heading to Gail’s family’s house. Most of them were there, mourning the fresh loss of the youngest of them. It was touch and go for a couple of them. Their emotions were running high and sensitive. But I managed.

Gail too worked for one of the plays in town. She was at the Cabaret Theater as a sound designer. Her family was immensely proud that she’d managed to get such a good position so soon after graduating from Southern Oregon University. None of them could recall her ever having known Thomas Waithe. She didn’t have any known enemies or previous grudges. No significant other. Just a hard-working young woman. Her mom had been the one to report her missing when she didn’t come home.

I thanked them for their help, gave the card with mine and Sam’s numbers on it, and let them know I would notify them of any developments. Understandably, it wasn’t a warm goodbye.

Outside, I tugged my phone from my pocket. There were two missed calls from Castiel. The first one was him explaining dryly that he had ‘acquired’ the two collars from evidence and mentioned that they looked like an old form of Gaelic. In the second one he said that he went back and found the responding officer that Helena had mentioned to Sam and me. He started giving details but was cut off by the message limit being reached. I laughed thinking of Castiel standing outside the precinct going on and on about what he learned, not even realizing it wasn’t recording.

I also had one message from Sam:

_Someone new taken. Missing friend of Joel’s. Worked with Thomas. Going to look for her inside AE Theater._

“Damnit Sammy,” I mumbled, heart stuttering at the thought of him going alone into possible danger.

Moving quickly, I dashed around the Impala and jumped into the driver’s seat. As I shoved the key in to the ignition, I pulled up my browser on my phone and typed in AE Theater and Ashland, Oregon. The search result came up with the Allen Elizabethan Theater. It was close to Joel Brown’s apartment. I slammed my foot on the pedal and raced to my destination.

Letting the door of the Impala shut with a loud creak, I took off at a jog toward the front of the large theater. Only one person stood outside, a young man with brown curls, thick glasses, and a look of fear barely restrained on his face. My gut clenched as I made a beeline for him.

He caught sight of me too and hollered, “You FBI? You with the other guy?”

“Yeah,” I answered, glancing suspiciously around. “You Joel? Where is he?”

Joel nodded and pointed over his shoulder at the theater and hurriedly explained, “Went to look for my friend Maggie. Told me to come out here and wait for his backup.”

“Damn it…how long ago?”

“I-I don’t know, maybe twenty minutes?”

Too long, I thought.

“Dean.”

I turned and saw Castiel. Sam must have messaged him too. I realized at that moment that I had completely forgotten to keep him in the loop, I was so worried about Sam. I gave him a silent look that said I was sorry. But it seemed he understood.

Turning back to Joel I said, “Take us where you took Sam.”

“This way.”

Cas and I were right on Joel’s heels as he led us through the theater. Slipping past the workers Joel explained hurriedly, “The other Agent – Sam – wanted to ask me about Thomas, but I told him about my friend Maggie. I thought she might be in trouble ‘cause she went out for coffee this morning for all of us working on the set, but didn’t come back. Sam said he would help me look for her.”

We slipped backstage, heading deeper into the labyrinth. As we walked, the cramped spaces became less and less populated and darker.

“I showed him where she probably went to get out back. Then he told me to head out front to wait for you. Said something about it being dangerous.”

I glanced over my shoulder worriedly and met Castiel’s intense blue eyes. His brows had drawn together worriedly.

“Here.” Joel pointed. “I told him Maggie might go through set storage to get to the doors in the back.”

Sam wouldn’t have told Joel to go off on his own with a dangerous witch on the loose unless he saw something. Knowing this, I pulled out my pistol and gazed down the vertically stacked rows of set pieces. Joel’s eyes widened at the sight. But I ignored him. After a moment I caught sight of what looked like a coffee cup spilled on the ground.

“Go back and tell everyone that they need to get out of the building,” I ordered, giving the clip and barrel of my gun a once over. “Make sure you don’t let anymore people out of your sight.”

Joel didn’t move right away. Shock seemed to be setting in as he realized that this was serious. But not one to waste time, I barked his name to snap him out of it. Blinking, he swallowed hard, nodded, and took off at a clumsy sprint through the theater equipment.

I turned to Castiel and said, “Go help get everyone out. And keep an eye on him; he’s still a suspect until I can find Sam.”

He nodded, but before I could make it one step, his hand caught my forearm.

“Be careful, Dean.”

Then he turned on his heel and went after Joel.

My stomach did a little flip, but I shook my head and turned back to the task at hand. Dozens of plywood slates stood vertically, stored in clumps that I assumed made sense to whoever stuck them back here. I started picking my way through carefully. The spilled coffee was definitely recent.

It wasn’t until I finally found the back door that Joel had mentioned that I saw anything. A small work table had been overturned, scattering tools and paint brushes across the floor. On a nearby plywood scene of a snowy forest there was a small arch of blood and more droplets on the ground.

“Sam?” I called, shining my flashlight in an effort of tracking what direction the injured person went. They led me to a pile of clothes that looked very familiar. It was Sam’s suit and his gun.

“What the–”

A high-pitched whine reached my ears. I snapped my gun and flashlight in the direction of the sound and noted the trail of blood that went in the same direction. Ready for a trap, I slowly made my way toward it. When I came around the corner, the light illuminated a shelving unit full of crates and other knickknacks, and stuffed between a replica crown and a box full of pulleys was a Cocker Spaniel, trembling.

One of its eyes was shut due to a bloody gash over it. Dark red stained his coppery brown fur down the muzzle. When it saw me, its good eye widened and it stood. Wiggling out from the props, I saw the tail wagging. I lowered my gun, disappointment bubbling up. A dog wasn’t going to help me find my brother.

“Hey buddy, you seen Sam?”

I didn’t think dogs were capable of looking irritated. But this one did. His tail immediately stilled and his one good eye locked onto my own. A little unnerved, I looked around. The trail of blood stopped where the dog had been hiding. So where was Sam? The dog barked and whined again.

“What?” I asked.

Could dogs roll their eyes? This one did. It was such a human gesture…_wait_.

My eyes widened. Kneeling down, I finally took notice of the collar around his neck. It was fine leather with sigils carved into it. When my fingers made contact, it felt like I’d just pressed them onto a hot skillet. The x-rays that Helena had showed us back at the morgue flashed through my mind; the shifted bones, the tail.

My mouth dropped open as I asked in disbelief, “Sammy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was super long, but I didn't think it had the same tempo if I tried breaking it up any other way. Let me know if you liked it! I had fun kinda making this one up as I went along (I mapped out the Tikbalang story arc).  
Also I decided to add in Sam's POV cause I thought that would be fun when he was a cute dog! :3


	8. Ashland Illustration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an illustration I had in my head! Wanted to get it done before I updated again to say thank you to all of you that left Kudos! I'm having a lot more fun with this story than I could have hoped so it means a lot. Love you all! Stay happy!  
I'll put up the next chapter soon. I'm going through and editing now. Wish me luck!  
Also: big thank you to RDJWINCHESTER1 for putting up a tutorial on how to put pictures on here, you are a life-saver.

Sam is a 'good boy', what will Dean do now?


	9. Diablo Illustration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Illustration for the story! I'm trying not to procrastinate editing the next chapter...but I totally am, I'm sorry! ;p  
Thanks again to everyone who has left kudos! Makes me happy knowing you support me! Love to all!

Dean is wallowing in the bottom of a whiskey bottle. Castiel tries to pull him out of it.


	10. Ashland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam adjusts to life as a doggo. Dean struggles with the fact that he doesn't have Sam as a middle man to deal with Castiel anymore.

A Couple Hours Ago

Dean dropped me in front of Joel Brown’s apartment building. I headed to his and found his roommate inside. She said that Joel was at work at the Allen Elizabethan Theater. I thanked her and headed out. It wasn’t that far away. About four blocks north.

When I arrived, I asked a passerby where I could find Joel Brown. They directed me inside the theater, saying I could find him on stage. It was amazing. An exact replica of the Globe Theater in England. I could imagine myself on the opposite side of the world as I stepped out into the open. Across the way, I saw a small gathering of worried looking people on the stage.

“None of you saw Maggie come back?” I overheard a young man ask.

A resounding chorus of ‘no’ answered him. His face paled.

“She’ll be back Joel; the coffee shop is probably busy.”

“Or she’s calling that boyfriend of hers.”

That must be Joel Brown. He didn’t look satisfied with that answer but didn’t stop his coworkers from dispersing. When he was alone, I stepped up and asked softly, “Are you Joel Brown?”

He looked down at me in surprise, but after a brief once over of my attire he guessed who I might be. Swallowing hard he answered with a nod. Before I could start in on any questions, he held up his hand and said, “Listen man, I already told the police all I know.”

Pulling out my FBI badge, I flashed it and countered, “I’m not the police.”

That seemed to get his attention, but he surprised me by shaking his head and saying, “Look, I’m sorry, but I need to go and look for a friend. She should have been back by now and I’m getting a little worried.”

That wasn’t good.

“You think she may be in trouble?”

Joel turned back to me with hope in his eyes. He knew that I was aware of all the details of the case so far, so I might be having the same idea as him.

“She went out on a coffee run for all the set builders almost two hours ago.” He explained hurriedly. “The coffee place is only fifteen minutes away on foot, tops. It shouldn’t take that long to get coffee even on a busy day.”

“Okay, show me which way she went.”

Relief flooded Joel’s features. He immediately agreed.

While we headed back into the inner workings of the theater, I sent Cas and Dean a text:

_Someone new taken. Missing friend of Joel’s. Worked with Thomas. Going to look for her inside AE Theater._

The number of hallways and storerooms was dizzying. And the further we went the less people there were. The perfect place for an ambush. Eventually Joel stopped and explained that his friend Maggie would have come this way to head out one of two doors at the back of the building that led to the employee parking area. I looked around at where we stood now. Plywood cutouts stored vertically in rows stretched back about fifty yards and to each side about one hundred yards.

When Joel suggested we split up, my initial reaction was to say ‘no’. I started to turn away from the rows of set design items to do just that, but caught sight of a puddle on the cement almost obscured behind one of the stored set pieces. It looked like coffee.

“I’ll check out the doors,” I said, keeping my eyes scanning. “You go out front and wait for my backup. They’ll be here soon.”

“No, I can’t just –”

“Joel, the person we are dealing with is dangerous. We don’t have a lot of time to argue if they got to Maggie.”

His face paled and he looked like he might be sick. To steady him, I reached out a consoling hand and gripped his shoulder. He took in a shallow breath before nodding. Without a word, he slipped by me and went back the way we came.

Once he was gone, I took out my gun and my flashlight and went over to the puddle. It was in fact coffee. The cups and cardboard carrier were close by, scattered across the cement. I went through the stacks systematically, keeping my gun up and ready for anything. When I reached the back door, my hands wavered at the sight of an unconscious woman lying next to the back door. The sickly light from the exit sign cast an eerie green glow across her body. I swept the area for any signs of another person before rushing forward.

She was still breathing. I jostled her shoulder and called down, “Hey! Maggie? Can you hear me?”

She remained lax and unresponsive. I noted the bowl of crushed herbs and other mystery ingredients at Maggie’s side. Definitely a witch, then. And whoever they were they weren’t around. I stowed my gun, reaching down to pick up Maggie and carry her to safety. I’d just gotten my hands on the woman’s arms when an explosion of pain erupted from the back of my head. My vision whited out for just a moment before I was able to push up from the ground and whirl around.

My fist collided with my attacker who hadn’t moved after bludgeoning me. Their small frame went staggering back, crashing into a worktable. The random contents scattered across the ground. Before I could get another hit in, or tackle them, they threw out their hand and uttered a string of guttural words. It sounded familiar, but the sudden tearing of flesh on my forehead sent me doubling over in surprise and pain. In the next instant blood flowed down my face, blinding one eye.

The cut wasn’t deep, but it stung like hornets under my skin; one hell of a spell. My vision doubled from the blow to the back of the head and I struggled to focus enough to fight back.

“I’m sorry,” a feminine voice said shakily from my blind side. I threw out my arm and caught nothing but air. “It won’t hurt for long.”

Pain even worse than the cut radiated from my neck as the weight of a collar was closed around it. The bowl of herbs nearby burst into a ball of blue flame as the voice started chanting in the same language as before. Hearing it now, I could recognize it as a version of Gaelic. Not that I could do much with that information now. But it was all I could focus on as the sheer amount of pain sent me to my knees.

My hands flew up to tug the collar off, but as soon as my fingers made contact with the carved leather, I wrenched them away in agony. It felt as though they’d been burnt. My palms slapped down onto the concrete so I was on all fours. The pain in my neck spread all over my body. My sounds of pain were stifled by a small hand covering my mouth. I couldn’t even unclench my jaw to bite down on it.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” The witch kept repeating.

The first shift of bone under my skin popped sickeningly. I drew in a surprised breath. My clavicle made a crunching sound next, like someone tearing the husk off of corn, as it collapsed. I started losing count of the number of sounds I heard. All I could do was shut my eyes and hope it would stop soon.

Eventually the shifting slowed and stopped. I lay there trembling, feeling small and broken. The hand was no longer trapping my voice so I tried calling for help. A raspy whine escaped through a mouth that didn’t feel like my own. I struggled to open my eyes.

“Don’t try to move,” the witch said from somewhere above me. “Your body is still transitioning. I…I didn’t want to do the transformation on someone that’s awake. But you…you didn’t give me a choice.”

_Transformation?_

The eye without blood in it fluttered open. I was close to the ground. Everything around me looked twice as big as it had minutes ago. Confused, I struggled to look down at my body. My clothes lay draped over my shoulders, looking as big as a blanket. Despite still feeling like there was pins and needles under my skin I wriggled free. What I saw had me whining pitifully all over again. Fur. The same color as my hair covered my entire body. Well, if I could even say it was my body anymore.

I was a dog.

Turning, I saw the witch hurriedly rushing around Maggie, picking up the bowl full of charred herbs and other spell ingredients. I still couldn’t get a good look at their face. The hood drawn up over their head obscured their features.

“I’m going to bring my car around back,” the witch muttered more to themselves than me. “Don’t go anywhere, okay? I’ll take good care of both of you.”

My anger and fear manifested as a low growl deep in my chest. If I could actually move, I would use my new mouth to bite the shit out of their leg. The witch seemed to understand my meaning and gave me a wide berth as they hurried to the back door and slipped outside. The brief blinding flash of light made me flinch away.

_Get up, Sam_. I urged myself putting all my energy into getting on four legs.

Somehow, I managed to haul myself upright, but it felt like standing on broken glass. Whimpering, I staggered over to Maggie still lying unconscious on the ground. I pawed at her face. Still no reaction. I couldn’t reach the door handle and I didn’t have much time before the witch came back. Despite it killing me to do so, I decided to leave Maggie and find a place to hide.

My eyes had adjusted even better in the dark, despite not being able to see the green color of the exit light anymore. I caught sight of tall shelves filled with random equipment lining the far wall. With every last ounce of energy I had left, I limped into the darkness. I found a space big enough to shove my small body on the lowest shelf. God it hurt. My skin and bones were still raw from the transformation. Any contact felt like someone prodding a barely scabbed over wound. But once I was still, my eyes closed and I let my head fall down.

I heard when the witch came back. Anyone good at tracking could have followed my trail of blood and found me. Whoever they were, they gave up after a minute and started dragging Maggie out of the door. When it shut behind them, I closed my eyes once more and wished silently that Dean and Cas would find me.

Now

I huffed agitatedly from where I lay on the passenger seat, shooting my brother a look that said, _I can’t talk __dumbass_.

“Okay,” he waved his hand, clearing his throat and thinking about how he was going to communicate with me. “Sorry. How about one bark for yes, two for no?”

I rolled my eyes and nodded.

“What the hell happened?”

_That’s not a yes or no question_, I growled.

“Shit. I mean…did the witch do this? Did you get a good look at who they are?”

I barked once, paused, then barked twice.

He lightly slammed his fist against the steering wheel before asking, “Did the witch take Maggie?”

I barked softly once, a sad whine coming from my throat.

“It’s okay, Sammy.” He said, shooting me a glance. “We’ll find her.”

I believed him, but I still felt slightly responsible. I mean, how did the witch even get the drop on me? I thought I checked my surroundings before helping Maggie.

My back spasmed, reminding me that my body was still struggling with transforming. I winced and whined, cowering into the leather of the seat. Dean’s brows came together as he said, “I’m taking you to the vet.”

It was almost enough to make me laugh if it wasn’t such a ridiculous idea…or if I could laugh. I settled for huffing and barking a bitter ‘no’.

“You’re bleeding Sam,” he countered, glancing down at me with fear in his eyes.

I barked a ‘no’ again, the growl spreading from my throat down to my chest. It reminded me that my body was not quite my own. Worry crept up through the cracks in my stubbornness and I considered doing what Dean wanted.

“At least let me take you to Helena. She’ll know what to do.” He argued.

That was a bit easier to swallow. At least we knew her and she knew something weird was going on. A wave of exhaustion rolled over me as I woofed a weak ‘yes’. Dean’s grip on the steering wheel loosened a bit, but his eyes still screamed ‘worry’.

Working on some kind of instinct, he reached over, lightly patting the top of my head with the palm of his hand. His skin felt rough against my fur, but not in a bad way. It tugged lightly on my ears, giving me the warm feeling of being looked after; comfort. It reminded me of when I was younger – smaller. Dean would always hold me, get me anything I needed if I was sick. Once puberty hit of course, I told him to quit mothering me.

He paused as if he too realized that he was petting his grown brother’s head, but resumed when he saw me close my eyes. After a moment he grumbled, “Don’t worry, we’re almost there.”

I kept my eyes closed for the rest of the journey. When Dean parked, he came around to my side and opened the door. Reaching in, he re-tucked my suit jacket around my body and lifted me into his arms. It gave my stomach a little jolt being lifted so high so fast, but I trusted my brother not to drop me. I couldn’t help but whine in pain though at the pressure around my sensitive body.

Dean muttered comforting words as he strode across the parking lot. When he reached the door, he adjusted my body in his arms, unintentionally digging my newly re-formed shoulder into the crook of his arm. I whined in pain which caused the panic to return full-force to his eyes. He muttered an apology before striding through the door straight to the same blonde secretary from before.

“Oh gosh!” she exclaimed, getting to her feet as soon as she caught sight of my bloody form in my brother’s arms.

“Where’s Dr. Fuentes?”

The secretary started at the harsh tone of Dean’s voice, but responded quickly, “Back in the lab. D-down the hall just before her office. B-but you can’t –”

“He’s part of the investigation.” Dean cut in, shooting her a dangerous look that said ‘try me’.

“Dean!” the familiar gravelly voice came from behind.

I recognized who it was before he even spoke. Castiel. Just like earlier when I’d been carried out of the theater, I could sense the power coming off of him. Something deep and primal in me was triggered as soon as he came close. Reflexively, I cowered.

The fallen angel noticed.

Suddenly the power shifted and I could taste his sadness on my tongue. Dean noticed the trembling in my body. He glanced between Castiel and myself before turning and stomping determinedly down the hall toward the lab.

As we went, he lifted me and asked under his breath, “You okay, Sammy?”

“His senses have been heightened,” Cas explained, careful to keep his voice quiet. “As an animal he can most likely feel my grace.”

Dean’s eyes widened as he looked to me for confirmation.

I wasn’t really sure if that’s what I was feeling.

Shooting a worried look at Castiel, Dean asked, “Can you heal him?”

“I can try.” He replied, shooting a look over my brother’s shoulder at the secretary.

Nodding, my brother turned on his heel and headed to the lab. The edges of my vision were starting to blur. Never a good sign. Soon I wouldn’t be able to keep my eyes open. It must be the shock finally wearing off.

Kicking his heel into the door, we all barged in to the lab. Helena jumped violently, letting out a small squeak of terror. The test tube in her hand shot out of her grasp and shattered on the countertop. Rushing over, Castiel shoved the counter clean with a sweep of his arm and Dean placed me in front of her.

Castiel’s fingers hovered over my body. I blinked; my eyelids suddenly very heavy.

Helena asked, her voice high and thin, “Is – is that – is that Sam?”

Ignoring her Dean asked, “Can you fix him?”

“Ordinarily I would be able to,” Cas grumbled. “But the spell on him…the magic is unpredictable. I may end up hurting him more.”

“Fuck. Okay, Helena, you’re up.”

“Wha – what? No,” she stammered. “I’m not a – a veterinarian!”

“You’re a doctor, aren’t you?” Dean spat, rounding on her. “Do something!”

As I cracked open my eyes, I could see that she was incredibly pale. Looking down at me she swallowed hard before putting on gloves and asking for Dean to bring a lamp over from across the room. The light was blinding as it was pointed down at me. I whined again and shut my eyes.

Gentle fingers probed the fur covered in blood, pushing it apart to reveal the skin underneath. As she worked, she narrated shakily, “Looks like he’s – he’s got a contusion on the back of his skull with a – a superficial abrasion. This cut above his eye is pretty deep. I’ll have to stitch it up.”

I could feel Dean hovering even with my eyes closed. I wished I could tell him to chill out, or go somewhere else. It wasn’t like either of us had never been sewn up before.

“The collar looks like the others,” Castiel noted.

There was a brief pause before fingers touched the leather around my neck. As soon as they started fiddling with it, I felt a pulse of power. Helena recoiled with a yelp of pain. I opened my eyes to see Castiel and Dean at her side, looking in horror down at her hands and me on the counter.

Meeting my gaze Dean said, “Looks like it stays on for now.”

I whimpered, feeling tired and overwhelmed. He seemed to understand. Closing the distance between us he ran his palm gently across my head, careful to avoid any injuries. He rubbed one of my long ears and murmured, “Don’t worry, Sammy, we’ll fix you up. Just get some rest.”

Unable to resist exhaustion any longer, I set my chin down on the countertop, let out a long sigh, and concentrated on how wonderful it felt to have my brother so close.

~ 0 ~

“This is so fucked.” I muttered, rubbing at my temples.

Sam was a dog.

I watched uneasily as Helena shakily tended to my brother. All the while my mind raced. I wondered what kind of spell could not only transmute a living human into an animal, but also scramble an angel’s powers. Seems Cas had the same thoughts as he came up by my side. 

“These sigils are the same as the others,” he muttered, nodding at the collar. “Gaelic. Influenced by Old French.”

“What does that mean?”

Glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, he said, “I think we’re dealing with a druid, not a witch. A number of families came out of Ireland after the death of Christ and went south.”

“They get a craving for frog legs?” I asked, trying to divert my anxiety with humor.

I couldn’t tell if he didn’t understand my reference or if he could see through my thinly veiled attempt at being okay. In any case, I cleared my throat and turned away from the sight of my brother’s newly small body on the counter. Helena was just about to get started on stitching him up. Taking in a large breath, I rubbed my eyes.

Cas’ hand on my shoulder startled me. Not sure why. I knew he was there. But something about how gentle it was caught me off guard. It had always been that way though. Why did it bother me now? Suddenly, angry, orange flames, sprayed with a thick fan of blood came to mind. My eyes shot open.

“Sam will be okay,” the dark-haired man muttered, close enough that I felt the vibration run through the short hairs on the back of my neck and down my spine. “Dr. Fuentes will help him; she is a capable human.”

Still overwhelmed by the shock of what had just come over my body and flashed through my mind, I nodded. His blue eyes were all that I could see. All I could feel was the gentle brush of his trench coat against my hand. When did we get so close? This would usually be the time Sam would come out of nowhere and interrupt us.

Heat rising to my face, I ducked my chin toward my chest and grumbled, “I don’t think it’s safe for us to go back to the motel. Whoever our Druid is, knows that we’re looking for her, and this is a small town. Won’t take them long to figure out we’re the “FBI” that’s been going around asking questions.”

Castiel shifted, not noticing my weird behavior.

“We’ll need to stay somewhere unexpected if we want to continue investigating.” He added.

I glanced up and noticed him gazing directly at Helena. As soon as we fell silent, she looked up and saw him staring. Holding the supplies she was going to need to fix Sam up she shook her head, “I – I don’t think I can handle much more of this.”

Her almond shaped brown eyes glistened unexpectedly with tears. Letting her hands and the supplies fall onto the counter, her shoulders shuddered. She was trying so hard not to freak out. It reminded me of a time when I used to get overwhelmed. Back when a simple ghost had been one of the most terrifying things I could imagine.

Understanding where her head was at, I said, “Yes you can. You’ve dealt with crazy shit like this before.”

“You – you mean the poltergeist?” she asked incredulously, meeting my gaze. “I was – I was only like, eight. I barely remember –”

“We both know that’s bull.” I cut in. “I remember when my Dad went to help your family. And I remember thinking when I saw you on the lawn holding your brothers and sisters that you knew exactly what had happened. Because _I_ knew.”

A large tear fell out of the corner of her eye, rolling quickly and silently down her full cheek like a steel colored spark. Reaching out, I gripped her arm and squeezed. Maybe a little harder than I intended.

“You don’t forget stuff like that.” I continued. “That’s why my family does what we do. To save people like you, like Maggie. Please...help us now.”

I could see the deep, almost black flecks in her eyes as they searched mine for an answer. Finally, she licked her lips and nodded her head before muttering hoarsely, “You can stay with me until you figure out who’s doing this.”

Giving her arm one last squeeze, I nodded in appreciation and backed off. The shaking that had been plaguing her hands before lessened as she gathered up her supplies again. She asked us to follow her into the morgue (a more sterile environment) with Sam. Gingerly, I picked him up. He didn’t open his eyes. A pang of worry shot through me, but I shoved it down. There wasn’t enough time to act like that now.

“We’ll have to stash the cars somewhere outside of town. People have already seen us driving them.” I muttered, crossing my arms and glancing for the hundredth time at Helena working.

“I’ll go.” Cas nodded.

“We should go together. Better if there’s two if the dog-loving psychopath shows up.”

Calling over to Helena, I said that we’d meet her back at her house. She acknowledged me by nodding absently, concentrating hard on the task in front of her. I didn’t bother saying anything to Sam. Either he had passed out from the pain or wanted to. Silently I wished for him to be alright, turned on my heel, and led the way out.

Castiel was right on my heels. We hopped into the Impala and headed to the motel where his car was. After that, he followed me out of town. About fifteen minutes later, I found a row of low-lying pine trees that would be perfect. I stashed Baby and hopped into the passenger seat of Cas’ car. We drove around for another twenty or so minutes before finding another spot. It was west, close to the ocean, and near enough to town that walking back wasn’t too big a deal.

But I wasn’t about to go one mile in these goddamn shoes or this monkey suit. Taking my duffel bag from the back seat as we got out, I stood and called over the top of his Lincoln Continental and said, “Hold up a sec, I’m going to change.”

His face remained blank, but he gave me a tiny nod. I didn’t think much about it. My head was too full of Sam back at the morgue getting stitched up. We needed to find a spell to reverse whatever was done to him. And if we couldn’t find one, then we needed the druid alive. Which was never a good idea. Or easy.

I was halfway done unbuttoning my shirt when I caught sight of his blue eyes watching me. I froze, realizing that I was standing half naked in front of Castiel, who was looking at me more intensely than a friend should. He didn’t seem to care that I noticed.

Clearing my throat and turning my body slightly I said, “Dude…a little privacy?”

Blinking slowly, as if he hadn’t realized what he was doing, he turned around.

_What the hell_? I thought, my face heating up as I stripped down. I threw paranoid glances at him, but he remained facing the other way. _Was that an angel thing? I mean, he’s probably seen thousands upon thousands of humans naked in his lifetime. Why did he have to make it so weird with me?_

When I finished, I cleared my throat. Still seemingly unphased, Cas turned, noted my usual plaid, and started toward town without commenting. It took me a moment for my mind to catch up with what I knew I should be doing.

About an hour later we got to Helena’s house. The lights inside were on, glowing clear and bright against the impending night. My gut once again twisted as I thought of Sam. Glancing down the street to make sure we hadn’t been followed, the pair of us knocked on the front door and waited. Helena opened it with enough force to send the wild curls around her face dancing.

“You’re here,” she commented, sounding relieved. “Sam’s in the living room.”

He was nestled, eyes closed, in a cocoon of blankets on the cushion of a plush ottoman. He cracked open an eye as I entered and let out a weak whine. I went to his side in an instant and asked, “Hey, man, you okay?”

His expressive eyes that thankfully still looked like his went from me to Castiel over my shoulder and back again before he nodded. I could see he wanted to talk; to get to the bottom of what had happened. But his body was already shaking with the effort of trying to get up. Trying to avoid his wounds, I reached out and ran my palm along his back gently.

“Take it easy, Sammy.”

Knowing Sam, he most likely wanted to argue.

Still trying to comfort him, I said, “Cas and I will start trying to find a way to change you back.”

With a long sigh, Sam rested his chin back between his paws and closed his eyes. Quietly, I stood and headed into the kitchen where Castiel and Helena stood around the counter. She had just pulled her laptop out and slid it over.

Following his lead, I took out Sam’s from my duffel bag and called over to the slightly pale looking mortician, “You should get some rest too.”

“I – I don’t know if I can sleep after all that…” she whispered.

She ran her hand through her already frazzled curls and turned to the fridge. She started pulling out vegetables and asked over her shoulder, “Either of you want something to eat?”

As Sam’s computer booted up, I felt my stomach grumble.

“If you’re offering, yeah.”

Glad to have something to distract her, she started making sandwiches. I turned my attention to the computer and started pulling up anything and everything on human-animal transformations that I could find. Everything fell away as I delved deep into the research.

“It seems the witch might be a druid.”

Castiel’s deep voice rose up, breaking through the static that I’d surrounded myself in for the last few hours. I blinked. The windows behind him were black. How late was it? I looked around and saw Helena slumped over the table next to us, head in her arms, breathing deeply in sleep.

“What?” I asked, clearing my throat. My numb mind was still struggling with pulling my head out of the research hole I’d been in.

“There’s a druid family that inhabited the north of France in the 12th century that would have knowledge of the runes on the collar.”

“And they came here to Oregon?”

Castiel glanced down at the computer screen before answering, “I’ve traced the lineage to as far as one hundred years ago. The records get complicated when they got to America.”

Rubbing at my tired eyes, I sighed, “Okay, keep looking.”

“You need rest.”

I met his gaze again and saw the subtle line of concern that had developed between his eyebrows. It hadn’t been a question. Or a command. More of a statement.

I shook my head, “I’m fine…”

Cas closed Helena’s laptop with a quiet click. He then stood and went over to the sleeping mortician and continued, “Sam can’t help us in his current form, and you are just a man. Your brother needs you at your best if you want to help him.”

My cheeks heated angrily. It felt like he was chastising me like a kid. But before I could fire back, I bit my lip. He was right. Sam was down for the count. I couldn’t afford to burn out. Bitterly, I rubbed at my eyes once again, hoping that would give me a second wind. When that didn’t help, I grumbled, “Fine.”

Cas nodded in satisfaction, reaching down and gently shaking Helena by the shoulders. She came awake with a start and a sharp intake of air. I stood and explained, “We should get some sleep.”

It seemed so normal that it took her a few seconds to comprehend. After a moment she agreed and led the way to the stairs and up to the second floor. Before leaving the kitchen though, I turned to look at Cas taking a seat behind the computer once more. Wasn’t he tired? I guess he didn’t sleep, but still. A wave of affection rolled through my core thinking of him working so hard.

“Thanks, Cas…” I muttered, fingers gripping the door frame I stood next to tightly.

He glanced up, catching sight of me. If he was surprised, I couldn’t tell. For a moment we stared at each other before he gave me a solemn nod. Not sure what else to say or do, I awkwardly patted the wood and turned, tight lipped to follow after Helena.

She led me to a bedroom on the western side of the house before shuffling off to the room at the other end of the hall. Suddenly I realized how exhausted my body was. All the emotional turmoil and running around of the day had kept my muscles at a constant level of high adrenaline tension. Kicking off my boots into a corner, I flopped down onto the bed face-first. The down comforter smelled like crisp fabric and flowery detergent. A step up from the moldering blankets I was used to. I took in a large lungful and let out a content sigh, closing my eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally getting a bit of the Destiel action! Thanks for the long wait on this one to those of you actually reading my passion project. I've been feeling kind of down lately about my writing but I do love this story and where its going so that's kept me going. Hope you're happy!  
*EDIT This chapter and the next are completely different. I decided I didn't like where it was going so I took a while to rearrange.


	11. Ashland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam, Dean, and Castiel close in on who is responsible for the deaths and disappearances of theater workers around the town of Ashland. Will it be what they thought? Will they be able to change Sam back into a human?

Cold air ghosted over my exposed skin, chilling me. I cracked open my eyes in confusion and looked around the room. The pastel blue walls of Helena’s guestroom were gone. I wasn’t even in a room anymore. Thick tree trunks surrounded the clearing, disappearing into the inky black. My breathing picked up as I spun around. I was in the forest back in Washington.

I shot to my feet, my hand going to where I kept my gun and found that it was gone. I spun around, adrenaline shooting through my veins and making every sound seem four times as loud. The bed was gone. I was alone in the clearing, with only the wind and creaking of wood as my only company.

“Sam?” I hollered. “Cas?”

No answer.

I stooped, snatching up a thick twig from the ground and crushed the end of it under the heel of my bare foot. When it snapped, I felt the jagged edges cut into my skin. Ignoring the pain, I straightened. With my improvised weapon in hand I scanned the area. Nothing. I called out for Sam and Cas again.

No voice answered me, but off in the distance a dull orange glow caught my eye. Squinting, I stepped closer, wondering what it could be. That was when the faint smell of smoke wafted by. And not cigar smoke. Fire smoke. My stomach clenched with anxiety.

I took off at a jog through the darkness, tripping on hidden roots. Rain started pouring, trickling through the branches. But I didn’t care. As I got closer to the orange glow, my suspicions were confirmed.

Before I even emerged from the tree line, I could hear the roar of the flames. I coughed, shielding my stinging eyes from the acrid smoke. It raged despite the rain, bursting through windows and licking up the side of the house. My childhood home, the only one aside from Bobby’s that I’d ever really known. How was it here? A faint scream rose up. It was from inside the house. One that had haunted me my whole life. Mom.

My legs acted before I could rationalize what was happening. I sprinted for the front door and threw myself against it. It burst open under my weight. A swell of flames erupted around me. I coughed, holding my arm up over the lower half of my face. Another scream came from upstairs. From Sam’s nursery.

I took the stairs two at a time. The bottoms of my feet were burning, I could feel it, but I didn’t care. I burst into the nursery and cried out, “Mom?!”

First my eyes went to the ceiling. But the fire was so intense that if her body was up there, I couldn’t tell. Then, I caught sight of the other figure in the room. I froze, gazing in horror over at Castiel. He loomed over Sam’s crib, drips of flame coming down around his shoulders. Noticing my presence, he slowly tilted his chin in my direction.

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. His blue eyes were gone. All that looked back at me was black. The black of a demon.

He moved quicker than I could see. Suddenly, my back slammed against the wall behind me, flames making quick work of my clothes and searing my skin. I couldn’t even scream in agony, his hand clamped around my throat cut it short.

“**Look what you’ve done.**” Castiel spat, emotionless black eyes reflecting the fire around us. “**I fell. Forsook Heaven. For _you_!**”

“Cas –” I choked, tears streaming from my stinging eyes.

My hands pushed at his arm uselessly. He ignored my scrambling like I was nothing more than a trapped rat. Leaning in close so I could feel his breath across my lips he hissed, “**You can’t even take responsibility. Pathetic. My father should have never made your kind.**”

I couldn’t think. The pain was too intense.

Gasping for air, I shut my eyes. It wasn’t right. His eyes shouldn’t look like that. Ever.

The overwhelming heat, the roar of flames, the pressure of Castiel’s powerful grip on my throat, all vanished. My eyes shot open and I found myself back in the clearing I’d started in. Castiel was still there, glaring at me from only a few inches away. But something else was restraining me. Stabbing pain came from both my hands and feet. Glancing over I saw a thick metal rings piercing straight through my palms. Blood trickled slowly from the holes. It was attached to a chain that extended up into the canopy and out of sight. My feet were similarly bolted to the ground.

“**Look at me.**” Castiel commanded.

I did, just in time to feel the bite of a dagger’s edge slice into my side. I hissed through gritted teeth. Jerking away reminded me of my charred back. The cold, wet air seeped through the burnt flesh to my core, making my body shiver uncontrollably. As he listened to the clinking sound Castiel laughed.

“This isn’t you…Cas…please…”

Speaking was difficult. The words felt thick and stupid on my tongue.

“**Isn’t me?**” he asked rhetorically, the blade flashing and finding itself pressed against my cheek. “**You’re right, Dean. This isn’t me.**”

He drew the blade slowly along my skin, watching my reaction before continuing, “**_You_ made me like this.**”

It was getting harder to keep my eyes open. My body had become numb except for the creeping cold. He gripped my chin, forcing me to look into the pitch black of his eyes. I groaned as he whispered, “**Tell me why. Why did you do this to me?**”

“I’m sorry…Cas –”

The tip of his dagger slid into my gut, enough to be painful, but not enough to do any real damage. I whimpered as his grip tightened and he hissed, “**We are beyond apologies, Dean. I want answers.**”

For a brief moment, I could see the remnant of the angel he once was. A soldier of Heaven. A warrior of God. But then his expression darkened once again, and the blade twisted. I had reduced him to this…this thing. It wasn’t a matter of him not recognizing who he’d become. He knew. And he hated me for it. I didn’t know how he became like this. Guess I didn’t really need to know because it all boiled down to the same answer anyway.

“I was scared,” I answered, every delirious blink of my eyes lasting for what felt like minutes. “Of a lot of things.”

He released me, practically throwing my head back. It lolled on my neck before I was able to get control of my muscles. I followed his slow walk around me, noting the bloody gashes where his wings used to be.

With a snap of his fingers we were transported somewhere else. It took my sluggish mind a moment to catch up, but as soon as I did my eyes widened in horror. I was back in Hell. Watching as my face contorted in terror, he growled, “I’ll show you what it means to be truly afraid.”

His blade found my flesh over and over again. He didn’t speak, but he kept forcing me to look into his eyes. The eyes of a demon. Reminding me of the guilt. I didn’t die. No matter how much I wished for it. No matter how many times I begged for God to come and give him back his wings and take my life in exchange.

I had to live with what I’d done.

Reality hit me like a truck. Warm hands on my shoulders suddenly slammed me into a different body. I could still feel the pain. But it faded with every gasp of air. I shot up, shoving at the chest of whoever loomed over me. Scrambling away, my back hit the headboard and I glanced in terror at the room I was in. Helena’s guest room.

That was when I saw Castiel.

Cautiously, as if he was talking to a spooked animal, he explained gently, “You were having a nightmare.”

_Nightmare? But it had been so real…_

My sweat slicked shirt clung to my torso as my chest heaved. I checked the room once again, half expecting it to morph into the forest once more. Cas moved, drawing closer. I flinched. He held up his hands, “You’re safe.”

I blinked, brows drawing together in concern as I searched his face for any trace of a lie. I fully expected him to blink and the deep blue of his eyes would be replaced with inky black. But they didn’t change. He was still an angel; albeit a fallen one.

The relief that flooded my body notified me to the nausea that had been quietly simmering under the surface. Cas seemed to notice too and acted quickly. The edge of the trash bin settled under my chin just as vomit came bubbling up. I heaved, the sandwich from earlier making an unwelcome comeback. I sat shaking, still struggling with reality as Cas’ warm palm rubbed circles into my sweat-slicked back.

“Is he okay?” came a small voice from the doorway.

I glanced up and saw Helena looking at me with concern. Before Cas could answer, I waved her off and muttered hoarsely, “I’m fine. Sorry to wake you.”

She didn’t look like she believed me. I wouldn’t either, to be fair. I probably looked crazy. Her eyes slid over to Castiel who turned and gave her a short nod. With one last look at me, she crossed her arms and headed back down the hall. As soon as the sound of her slippers on the hall rug faded, I let out a shaky breath and mumbled an apology.

“Are you alright?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah…just a bad dream.” I answered, not intentionally wanting to sound unsure, but it came out that way. Trying to cover the fact that I, Dean Winchester had been rattled by a nightmare, laughed shakily, “We gotta stop bonding over barf.”

He was giving me one of those unreadable looks of his that I still struggled with even after knowing him for years. Without a word, he took the trash can and set it on the ground. I still couldn’t meet his gaze. But when his fingers reached out and caught the edge of my shirt, I couldn’t help but look up. He noted that I jerked away slightly and paused.

He explained, “You need to change.”

He wasn’t wrong. I was completely soaked through with sweat. But my throat was suddenly dry at the thought of Castiel undressing me. My face paled as he took my silence as permission to continue. He slipped my shirt up over my head, leaving my damp skin exposed to the night air. I was reminded of my dream and started trembling uncontrollably all over again. Couldn’t hide it if I tried. But Cas didn’t comment. Instead, he slipped his trench coat from his shoulders and draped it over mine, quietly explaining that he was going downstairs to get me a new shirt.

I nodded hollowly, watching as he took both my shirt at the vomit filled bin out of the room. I listened for the sound of his footsteps the whole time, still dreading that I would suddenly find myself in the forest or face-to-face with a burning loved one. When he came back, I let out the breath I’d been holding.

Handing me a new shirt, he motioned for me to dress myself. I thanked him, grateful that he wasn’t babying me. When I was done, I laid his coat down near my feet and we fell into silence. He didn’t probe me for answers, just watched me picking at my nails as I wondered what I wanted to say. I needed to say _something_, that much was certain. I owed him that.

“I don’t know how to explain.” I settled on truth. “What happened in Diablo really fucked with me, and now I can’t stop thinking about what the monster said.”

_It’s like I’m a curse._

“Not everything is your fault, Dean. What happened to Sam –”

“It’s not just that.” I cut in, my voice cracking and dying in my throat.

_I’m going to get you killed. Or worse – change you into something you’re not. _

Tense silence fell again. Internally I ordered myself to open my mouth and talk. So much of this angsty bull shit could be solved with a bit of communication, I knew. But I felt powerless. All I had was my dad’s voice in my head drilling me to: act like a man, look after Sammy, save people. Even if that meant I couldn’t save myself.

_But that means Cas is going to lose himself saving me._

“I’ll go,” Cas said softly, picking up his coat as he turned to leave. “You need rest.”

Panic shot through me like a bullet. I didn’t want to be alone. I shot up out of bed and called, “Wait!”

Surprise was written across his face as Cas paused at the door. He had ears. So, he heard what I said. The fact that he stood there looking at me without saying anything rubbed in the fact that I’d just called after him like some scared child. Ultimately though, it was true. More than letting him go like I knew I should, I wanted him next to me. Ever since I’d met him, I felt that he and I were similar people. I knew that I could trust him to look out for me like I would look out for Sam or any other hunter. The fact that I felt safe when he was around was something I wasn’t used to.

Taking in the deep blush of embarrassment on my cheeks, Cas took a cautious step back into the room. I stood there, hoping that he could sense what I was silently telling him.

_Of course, he can’t. Open your mouth, Dean. Tell him you’re sorry for always treating him like a tool. _I urged myself, chewing the inside of my cheek. _Tell him you think he’s one of the strongest people you’ve ever met. Spit it out!_

“Alright,” he mumbled, stepping back into the room. “Lay down.”

I blinked in surprise as Cas circled the bed to the opposite side.

_What?_

He set his coat down at the foot of the bed before motioning for me to do as he asked. It wasn’t an order, but I did what he wanted anyway. Must have been shock. Any other day or if it had been anyone but him and he would have found out what my gun tasted like.

Once I was settled, he followed suit. I froze as soon as I realized what he thought I’d been asking. Stammering in embarrassment, I tried explaining that it was a misunderstanding, but he hushed me by settling back against the pillows. My lips slammed shut as my heart started hammering in my chest.

“Sleep.” He commanded softly.

_What? With you right there? No fucking way._

Swallowing hard I muttered, “I don’t know if I can.”

Without a word, he slipped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me onto the bed beside him. For half a second, I moved to push him away. But then his voice rumbled in his chest, close to my ear, “I’ve got you, Dean.”

Words could not express how embarrassed I was. I never did this kind of thing. Not since Sam was a kid. As I wrestled with the urge to shove him away, the warmth from his body cut through the cool night air and chased away the last remnants of the nightmare lingering at the edges of my thoughts. His words settled somewhere deep, illuminating what was used to being cold and dark.

I’d barely even looked at Cas since leaving Washington. And here he was at my side like always. He wanted to look after me. I breathed deep, trying hard to get my wildly beating heart under control. For a long time, I remained tense and unsure.

Despite being freaked out, being held like this made me think of when mom, dad, and I slept together in their big bed when they were too tired to tuck me in to my own. Which of course got me thinking about how shitty growing up had been after mom was gone.

Dad had never been the same. One day he was playing with me in the backyard, the next he was wordlessly cleaning guns while I fed a crying baby Sam a bottle of lukewarm milk. He threw away everything. All for revenge. I’d been so young that I hadn’t understood what was happening. I just knew that the man I loved and idolized was slipping away. I did everything in my power to hold on to him. To be what he wanted me to be.

“Cas?” I asked quietly. I felt like I needed to give him an out.

He rumbled his acknowledgment, the feeling vibrating through his chest and into his arm.

Not being able to see his face was helping, but I still couldn’t find the words I needed. He didn’t speak, waiting for me to continue. The words felt like they burned as they came out of my dry throat, “You don’t…you don’t have to deal with…_this_.”

We lay in silence.

“I’m not _dealing_ with this,” Cas chastised softly. “I’m helping a friend.”

_That easy, huh? _

I pulled away from him, trying to get some distance. But his arm trapped me against his side. After a moment, the mattress shifted and my heart doubled its pace. His chest pressed against my back as he re-secured his arm. His hand gripped my shoulder above the mark he’d left pulling me out of Hell and mumbled into my ear thoughtfully, “We have not wandered the same paths, but I think there is understanding between us.”

He was right. But without Heaven he became lost, struggling with his identity. And all I’ve done is turn my back on him, over and over again. I realized that back in Diablo. And it scared the shit out of me.

“You should allow yourself to feel vulnerable.” He finished, his breath ghosting over the short hairs on the back of my head. My thoughts and feelings raged. I struggled with how this kind of intimate contact was affecting me. It was something my body craved but my mind told me I shouldn’t.

I was so tired of fighting though. These invisible demons my father instilled to “protect” me from the real ones. Both Sam and Cas were right. I needed to stop setting myself up for failure with such crazy expectations. Not unless I wanted to do more harm.

Slowly, I let out a long breath. The tension going with it like I was a well-shaken champagne bottle that just had the cork taken out. My gut twisted one last time and I resisted the urge to run. Instead, I pressed back against him. He was solid. Warm. Real. All I could hear was the sound of my heart beating in my ears. I was glad that he couldn’t see my face. Eventually, as the clock ticked softly on the side table, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to let go, even if it was only for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! We're in the roaring 20's now!!!! May your new decade be filled with happiness! Lots of love! <3


	12. Ashland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I re-did the last two chapters before this one, so they're completely different, just to warn you! So if you haven't read this since my last update, make sure you check that. lol

~0~

The sound of birds chirping outside was loud enough to wake me. As I cracked open my eyes, my nose twitched, instinctively trying to sniff out where I was. The first scent I got was Helena. That got my eyes to shoot open. I took in the sight of the nicely decorated living room and remembered what had led to me getting taken to her house.

Picking my head up, I perked my ears, noting how weird it was that they sort of flopped around my face. _So, I didn’t luck out with that being a dream._ I thought sadly as I reached out with my hearing for any signs of where people were. The house was quiet.

Gingerly, I sat up. It felt weird. I could no longer engage my core to help me sit up, I _had_ to rely on my arms that were now my front legs. When I did get up on all fours, I wobbled slightly. Every move was strange. It felt like what bloom around lights in a dimly lit room looked like. Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I looked at the wood flooring below. Hopping down from the ottoman seemed a bit intimidating. I was high up now that I was the size of a Cocker Spaniel.

_“Like Lady from Lady and the Tramp.”_ Helena had joked back at the morgue when I came to a little, towing the line of hysteria and laughter.

I landed on the ground with a soft thud. A brief shock of pain went up my limbs making me stumble slightly. Wandering around the first floor, I checked for my brother, Cas, or Helena and marveled at how surreal and big everything looked. Eventually I circled to the stairs, headed up, and noticed a dim aura coming from the left of the top step. As I peered around the corner down the hall, I could sense two things. One was the soft snoring, the other was a strange energy.

It was so strong and foreign to my new senses. There were no words for what it was. It’s what I imagined souls feeling like, or at least based on what Castiel has described in the past. Carefully I made my way down the hall. The feeling grew. Taking a deep breath, I nudged open the door with my nose.

What I saw kind of blew my mind a little. I’d only ever seen the shadow of Castiel’s wings once before. And now, draped across my sleeping brother, I could see them. They weren’t solid, more like a half-remembered dream. But they looked more real than the shadow I’d witnessed briefly once before.

And they were broken.

The wing that curled around Dean looked charred and ripped to shreds. It instantly put into perspective just how traumatic falling from heaven must have been for him and the other angels. Castiel lay behind my brother, eyes closed, oblivious to the gruesome sight of his once magnificent mangled wings.

A soft whine came up from my throat.

Cas’ eyes flew open at the noise and fell on me. His wings faded and so did the power I’d felt.

“Are you alright, Sam?” he asked, carefully detangling himself from Dean.

It took a moment for me to even respond. Concerned, Castiel knelt at my side and started checking me for injuries. All the movement alerted Dean who woke groggily. When he caught sight of me, faint blotches of pink appeared on his cheeks and neck. It quickly disappeared as his sleep stunted mind caught up with the situation.

Hopping out of bed he too knelt down and asked worriedly, “You hurting somewhere?”

When I didn’t respond fast enough, Dean looked to Cas and asked, “Can’t you speak to him? I mean, you’ve talked to a cat before, right?”

Castiel adjusted his position so he could look directly into my eyes. For a moment we stared at each other. He shook his head and held up his hands to do overly emphasized air quotes, “Something in the spell is ‘scrambling the signal’, so to speak.”

So, I couldn’t tell Dean about the state of Cas’ wings? Or tell Cas how sorry I was that that had even happened to him in the first place?

Eventually I was able to pull it together enough to get it across that I was fine. Dean looked ready to throttle me, but asked if I was hungry all the same. When I said yes, he led the way downstairs. Before we left Castiel picked up his jacket from the bed. I watched as he slipped it on, quietly remembering the fact that the pair of them had been in bed together when I came in.

_What happened last night?_

Helena woke up shortly after and joined us in the kitchen. She checked me over while Cas pulled up surveillance footage that Officer Oblonsky emailed. Dean cooked bacon and eggs, acting uncharacteristically quiet. She still looked a little shaken by the fact that the man she’d been talking to only yesterday had been turned into a dog.

“Seems that the shifting has stopped.” She commented, releasing her fingers from prodding my hip bones. Tugging her stethoscope from the bag at her feet she popped them into her ears and pressed it to my side. “Respiration is good.”

“So, he’s okay?” Dean asked, spatula suspended over the sizzling pan as he turned to look at her.

“As far as I can tell,” she answered, lifting me off the table and placing me on the floor. “Like I said last night though, I’m not a veterinarian.”

Dean seemed satisfied enough. He turned back to the hissing bacon.

_Sorry he’s such an ass. _To comfort her, I pawed at her, silently saying that I was happy with her work too. She gave me a pale smile before reaching down to pack up her bag.

“I recommend taking time to get used to your new body.” Castiel called from the other side of the table.

He was right. Walking was still a bit difficult. So, while Dean finished cooking and Cas quickly skimmed through footage, I trotted around the first floor. Even Helena joined in after calling the office to take a sick day, giving me pointers and tasks to complete. When I felt all four of my legs were finally getting in sync, I heard Dean start dishing out the food.

When he came around the corner to place messily plated bacon and eggs on the table, he asked, “So why turn them into dogs? Think it’s for some kind of ritual?”

“Traditionally, druids only turn those that wrong them into animals or stones. It’s curious that none of the victims so far have had any enemies.” Cas answered. More to himself than us.

I paused as Dean continued, “What, so they’re looking for a pet? Local dog shelter run out?”

Castiel shrugged.

When his eyes roamed back to the laptop screen in front of him, they suddenly narrowed. Leaning close, I noticed them raking back and forth. He’d seen something. Excitement ran through my gut, propelling me off the ottoman. I thudded into the ground and scrambled across the hard wood and under the table to his legs. Hopping up so my paws were on Castiel’s thigh I craned my neck to see the screen.

“Cas, you see something?” Dean asked, echoing what I was saying in my head.

“Someone followed Maggie through the back door.”

We watched as he backed the feed up and pressed play. Maggie strode happily toward the door with a fully stocked tray of coffee in her hands. Close behind was a figure dressed in grey. They were small in stature and had their hood obscuring their face. They disappeared after Maggie.

Castiel fast forwarded until twenty minutes had passed. The figure emerged once again, their head down as they hurried in the direction of the parking lot out front. After a few minutes, a hatchback vehicle backed up to the door. The figure opened the trunk before disappearing inside. Ten more minutes passed before the door was flung open. The person dragged Maggie’s unconscious body with a lot of difficulty and stuffed her in. After laying a tarp over her clumsily, they closed up and strode around to the driver’s side.

_So, not a professional kidnapper. _

“Seems Sam interrupted the druid.” Castiel observed. “They must have used the spell on him instead of Maggie.”

“You think there’s a chance she’s still human?” Dean asked.

Castiel shook his head, “If they went back to their sacred site and replenished power and supplies, they’ve probably already changed her.”

I made a sad sound.

Pointing at the bottom corner of the shot, Castiel said, “But Sam’s encounter did give us something.”

Curious, I looked down his finger and saw a slightly blurry license plate. Dean shot me a triumphant grin, “Great, we just need to hack into the registration database and search for the owner’s name.”

Brows furrowing in confusion Castiel turned to him and asked, “Do you know how to do that?”

“Well, no, usually Sam’s the one that –”

Dean’s voice died in his throat as he realized I didn’t have opposable thumbs. I huffed in frustration, going over the logistics of trying to explain to them how to do it. All three of us fell into an awkward silence.

“I’ll go back to the station and ask Officer Oblonsky for his assistance again.” Castiel offered.

“Ivan?” Helena squeaked from the living room.

Dean shook his head and cut off Helena before she could speak again, “If we get the police involved with this information, they’ll stick their noses where they don’t belong. At worse they’ll alert the druid before we can gank them, a bunch of innocent cops die, and we lose our chance at getting a reverse dog spell for Sam. At best they’ll alert the druid, get turned into dogs or rocks, and we lose the reverse spell.”

He was right. Going to the cops would only make things messy. Seemed like I was about to become the first I.T. savvy dog.

“What the fuck?” came a strange voice from the direction of the living room.

Dean and Castiel both shot to their feet as they caught sight of the stranger standing next to Helena. Now that I wasn’t distracted, my nose picked up on the strong scent of nylon, coffee, and gunpowder. Cautiously I crept forward under the table and peered over. A tall man with sandy blonde hair and a police uniform stood frowning deeply at my brother and Cas. I saw his hand twitch in the direction of the pistol on his hip.

Helena stood next to him, sweat blooming on her brow, eyes darting between all of us.

“Hold on,” Dean said, raising his hands and taking a step toward the stranger. “Why don’t we just –”

“Shut up!” the officer cut in. I squinted and saw the name badge on his chest that read _Oblonsky_. Still looking like he was itching to pull his gun, he looked to Castiel and said, “Agent Dion, I’m going to need you to explain what the hell I just heard.”

“C’mon man, let’s just –” Dean started, taking another bold step in the officer’s direction.

Instantly, Oblonsky wrenched his pistol free and trained it on Dean. In any normal threatening situation, I would rationalize through my options: 1) he hadn’t seen me under the table, 2) there was a blind spot on his left, 3) Helena was too close for him to make any rash decisions. But this wasn’t normal. I was a freaking dog. A low growl started in my chest and vibrated throughout my whole tiny body making me feel like I was revving up. The only thing going through my mind was ‘protect Dean’. Before I could stop myself, I was bounding out from under the table, barking wildly.

_Back off!_ I snarled, baring my teeth as I came to a stop between him and my brother.

Oblonsky’s gun wavered slightly as I snapped at his ankles. He staggered back, question in his eyes. Noticing too, Dean hollered, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Take it easy, man.”

Flashing angry eyes at my brother, Oblonsky said, “Then start talking. Now!”

He looked directly at Castiel, communicating silently that he was serious and that Dean should back off. Noticing, the fallen angel stepped forward, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder, silently telling him to stand down. Stepping between them Cas started, “It’s complicated. Please, put down your gun and we’ll talk.”

“Talk and then I’ll put down my gun.”

“For God’s sake Ivan,” Helena screeched finally breaking her silence. “They’re not the ones you should be pointing that thing at!”

He faltered, shooting a glance over his shoulder at her. The look on her face was enough to make me back off. Not that it was intimidating. More like I could feel her hurt and anxiety.

“Okay…okay.” He grumbled, putting his gun away.

For a moment we all stood regarding each other tensely. Eventually, Helena let out an exasperated breath and rushed into the kitchen. Ivan reached out instinctually to stop her, but she blew right past him and sat shakily in one of the chairs next to Cas and Dean. I followed her, fixated on the strong feelings she was giving off.

Ivan didn’t sit, but he did come closer. Crossing his arms, he nodded at my brother and muttered something warily about him getting to the point.

Dean explained what was going on, not bothering to soften any of the edges as he did. At different points Officer Oblonsky looked like he wanted to write Dean off as a whack-job, but every time he looked at Helena and her face, he stopped himself. It was a typical supernatural debrief that we’d given to a number of people over the years. The whole, ‘yes, there are real life, honest to God monsters out there’ speech.

At the end, Ivan ran a shaking hand over his pale face and sat heavily in a nearby chair. Glancing up at Helena he asked incredulously, “He’s not lying, is he?”

She shook her head, silently telling him she knew exactly how freaked out he was feeling.

“And this isn’t really a dog?”

_No _this_ isn’t_, I huffed, shooting him a disapproving look.

“That’s my brother Sam.”

Castiel flipped the laptop around, showing Ivan the image of the mystery person and partial license plate as he said, “And this is who is responsible for turning him into a dog.”

“And all the others.” Dean added.

Glancing unsurely between everyone gathered, Ivan leaned closer and studied the screen. Pointing at the bottom corner he said, “There’s a partial license plate.”

“Yeah, you think you can help us?”

“You mean, look up the registered owner?” Ivan asked, running a hand through his hair. “And then what? We go and–”

“Who said ‘we’?”

Glowering, Ivan adjusted his sitting position, “You don’t expect me to sit here, after hearing all that, do you?”

“Well, you sure as hell aren’t coming with us.” Dean countered.

“And you sure as hell aren’t getting access to police databases without me.”

My brother huffed. If I could laugh I would. I trotted to his side and pawed at his leg, urging him to take the officer up on his offer. He shot me an annoyed look before sighing again and saying grumpily, “Fine, but you don’t do anything without our say-so.”

It looked like Ivan wanted to argue, but Helena’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. Instead, he motioned to Castiel for the computer. The angel obliged. Minutes ticked by, filled with the sound of keys clacking and mouse pads clicking. Occasionally the officer would glance up at the eyes staring at him. Finally, the man’s eyes lit up and his posture straightened. All of us moved in closer, question hanging in the air like a banner.

“So?” Dean asked impatiently. “Who’s our druid?”

Castiel noticing me at his side, leant down and scratched behind my ears. He shot Dean a disapproving look on my behalf.

“Gertie Fraiser, thirty-seven, works as a seamstress for a number of theaters in town.” Ivan answered with a small huff. “Two of which are the Cabaret and Allen Elizabethan Theaters where the victims disappeared from.”

“Explains her kidnapping people so easily.” Castiel commented.

Dean nodded, frowning slightly, “We should go pay her a visit before she decides to make another Rin-Tin-Tin. Thank you, Officer. We’ll take it from here.”

“Now just hold on!” Ivan growled, getting to his feet. “You’re not going anywhere without me.”

“I’m sorry, there’s absolutely no way you’re coming with us. We’re up against a –”

“A witch. I heard you.”

“Druid, actually.” Castiel said, his fingers disappointingly pulling away from my head.

Dean opened his mouth and nothing came out, at a loss for words. He gave Castiel a very pointed look in the hopes that he would pipe in and be a little more helpful. Glancing up from me and noticing, Cas shrugged, “With Sam the way he is, we could use the extra hand. Druidic magic is more unpredictable than witchcraft.”

Dean pursed his lips and groused, “Yeah, whatever.”

Satisfied, Ivan leant back in his chair and asked, “So what’s the plan?”

Patting me one last time on the head, Castiel turned to Ivan and Helena and asked, “What do you know about Gertie?”

“Sh-she lives with her mom,” Helena called quietly from the sidelines. “People I work with mentioned they keep to themselves but do good costuming work.”

“Two druids? Don’t like the sound of that.” Dean grumbled.

“Not likely. Her mom, Tonya, has been comatose for the last three years.” Ivan answered.

Dean’s anger wilted a bit at that, but he still kept his serious hunting face on. After a moment he cleared his throat and addressed Castiel, “Will witch-killing bullets do the trick, or do we need something else for druids?”

“They should work.”

_What about changing me back?_ I asked silently, a small whine escaping as I adjusted my sitting position next to Cas’ leg.

Dean seemed to noticed, and like a good brother he seemed to know what I was getting at. Coming around the table, he knelt so we were on more equal level and said, “Don’t worry, we’ll try and take her alive so we can get the spell reversed.”

Before I could stop myself, I licked his fingers. I meant it to be the same kind of sentiment as a pat on the shoulder or back pat. Both of us froze before he grinned stupidly, “Gross.”

_Shut up, jerk._ I snarled.

“Bitch.” He answered, once again knowing exactly what I was thinking. He ruffled my ears playfully.

“Alright,” Ivan said, getting to his feet. “We doin’ this now?”

Glancing at him, Dean answered, “As good a time as any, I suppose.”

We decided that Ivan and Cas would hike around to the back of the property while Dean and I went to the front. They would come in as soon as they heard fighting or shouting. Dean was hard pressed to let me tag along, but he couldn’t exactly argue with a dog.

I was a bit envious that Cas got to go in Ivan’s car. For some reason the thought of riding along and smelling all those smells out of an open window sounded amazing. But a walk through the town would be okay too. I trotted along next to Dean, excitedly sniffing at the air as we went. Everything seemed alive and ten times tastier smelling than normal.

The most surprising thing however, was how much fun it was to see another dog. As Dean and I passed her and her owner, we locked eyes. Immediately the big lab started pulling on her leash to get closer to me. I felt Dean tense up next to me, wondering if he was going to have to save me from getting eaten, but I just wagged my tail. The other dog was just as happy to see me too. I tried speaking to her a couple different ways. First with my mind, then with barks. She didn’t seem to understand. It only got her more excited.

_So, no secret dog language._ I thought disappointedly, staggering under the weight of the bigger dog’s paw as she swatted at me playfully.

“Aw, he’s so cute!” the other dog’s owner crooned. “What kind of dog is he?”

Shooting me a sideways glance before turning back to the beautiful woman he answered with a smirk, “A bit moody.”

She let out a flirtatious laugh before clarifying, “I mean, what breed?”

“Oh, uh…” Dean glanced at me again. “Cocker Spaniel, I think?”

“Just like Lady from the Disney movie!”

I froze, as soon as the ‘D’ word left her mouth._ Damn it,_ _I’m never going to live this down_.

Sure enough, as I looked up, I saw the sheer joy on his face. Grinning from ear to ear he thanked her for the compliments and said that we had to be on our way. As we left, Dean stuffed his hands into his pockets and commented wryly, “Dude, I had no idea that having a dog would be such a good way to pick up chicks.”

_I’m not your dog, Dean._ I growled, nipping at his pant leg to make my point.

He jumped away, but the smile didn’t leave his lips.

As we got to the edge of town, Dean pulled out his gun and checked to make sure he had a bullet chambered. We could see Officer Oblonsky’s car down the road from the one-story ranch house that Gertie and her mom lived in. Before we got any closer, Dean muttered, “Hold up.”

Kneeling next to me, he tugged a bandana from his back pocket and started tying it around my neck. It smelled like him which was comforting. As he got done, he explained, “If I can’t convince you to stay out of this fight, then I don’t want them noticing their spell work right away.”

My tail started wagging in thanks. Noticing, Dean scoffed, “Yeah, whatever. If this starts going sideways, then you turn tail and run. Pun _intended_.”

I rolled my eyes. Or at least I think I did. I tried anyway.

“Ready?”

I woofed in agreement.

The pair of us went to the front door. It was pretty normal looking, but the smell of herbs was super strong. I sneezed. Definitely plants traditionally used for spells in the garden. Dean glanced at me as he opened the screen door and knocked solidly.

When the door opened, we were greeted by a small woman. The dark circles under her eyes were very pronounced. Drawing her sweater closer against the cool spring breeze she asked, “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, hi, I’m Dean and I represent a theater company out of –”

_It’s you!_ Her voice in my head was loud, clear, and very surprising. As soon as her eyes landed on me, recognition flashed through them.

I growled, leaping at her before she could cast a spell. Dean cried out, wondering what I was doing. Gertie tried closing the door on us, but I managed to slip through before it shut.

_You killed those people! Why?!_ I asked, snapping at her legs.

“Nature je te commande!” she cried, throwing out her hands.

Without warning, the potted plant next to us started sprouting at an alarming rate. Thick vines shot out and went straight for my tiny body. A sharp whine of surprise was crushed from me as I was tangled up.

The front door burst open in a shower of splinters as Dean kicked it in. Gertie staggered back, shouting the same words again as she reeled away. A potted tree suddenly sprouted what looked like arms and snatched up Dean. He was lifted into the air like he weighed nothing more than a feather. Letting out a small grunt of surprise, he tried to struggle, but I could hear the creak of wood as the tree started crushing my brother’s ribs. His gun clattered to the ground as he cried out in pain.

_I didn’t mean to kill so many! I just needed one!_ Gertie’s desperate voice once again surfaced in my mind as she hurried out of sight into the living room. I heard the sound of another dog barking before it whined and fell silent. Gertie emerged, an unconscious Scottish Terrier in her arms. That must be Maggie. I struggled against my bonds, but they only tightened.

“Sammy!” Dean choked out as soon as he heard me whimper again.

Gertie shot the pair of us a panicked look before rushing off down the hall.

_No!_ I struggled again to no avail.

I could hear chanting. Whatever she had planned for Maggie, it was happening now. I had to do something. Craning my neck, I started biting at the plant trapping me. From out of the corner of my eye a flash of white and beige went toward the voice. Castiel! I chewed faster.

Shouting and cries of pain exploded from the room down the hall. I saw the fear in Dean’s eyes just as another one of his ribs cracked. It drove me crazy; rabid, even. I tore through the plant. My jaw ached from the effort. When I was free, I stood in front of the tree that had my brother and started looking for something to bite.

“No time!” Dean jerked his head in the direction the druid went and cried, “Help Cas!”

He dug the heels of his boots into the nearby wall and started trying to muscle his way out. Seeing that he was still willing to fight, I did as he wished and sprinted down the hall, but not before scooping up Dean’s gun into my mouth. Just before the door I slowed and crept forward.

Peeking around the corner I saw Ivan on the floor close to where I stood, lying unconscious under a pretty significant dent in the wall that was body shaped. Castiel was further in, literally rooted to the ground. His angel blade was next to his feet, dropped when it was crushed from his grasp. He cried out in pain as the vines around him constricted. Gertie stood in front of him, working hurriedly to scatter herbs and light candles around Maggie and an older woman lying on the bed. That must be Gertie’s mom. Tubes and wires trailed from her body.

“Avec cette vie, tha mi ag iarraidh fear eile a shàbhaladh.” Gertie chanted.

“You don’t need to do this!” Castiel called through gritted teeth.

“Shut up!” Gertie lashed out with one of her hands, a burst of flames arching across the distance between them.

Castiel screamed in pain as his arm, trapped at his side, was burned from elbow to shoulder. As his skin charred, I realized that this was my chance to slip in unnoticed. For the first time since being turned into a dog, I felt like my small size was something other than a nuisance.

Careful not to move too quickly, I slipped into the room and padded over to Ivan. Setting the gun on the ground next to his hand, I glanced at the druid before turning back to him. I couldn’t tell if he was breathing, his chest looked still. Worry settled in my gut. Instinct took over and I started licking him on the face.

Gertie started chanting again. Gasping in pain Castiel called through gritted teeth, “Gertie, stop!”

As the next blast of flames elicited another scream from the angel, Ivan groaned softly. Eyes fluttering open he caught sight of me nose to nose with him. I couldn’t motion for him to keep quiet, but I did quickly pull back and start nosing the gun.

I watched his eyes focus on it. Realizing that it was important to keep quiet. Nodding, he slowly reached out and took up the gun. I pawed at his hand, trying to give him a purposeful look before bounding over his prone form into the room. I needed to act as a distraction.

_Let Maggie go!_ I barked, sprinting past Castiel toward Gertie’s legs. Her chant was cut short as my teeth sunk into the meat of her calf.

“Argh!” she wailed, staggering back. The toe of her boot caught me in the ribs. Despite being in pain, I only clamped down tighter.

I was too caught up in mauling Gertie that I didn’t see when Ivan rolled over and fired. The shot was impressive. Went right over Cas’ shoulder and caught Gertie in the center of her forehead. I staggered away and saw the look of surprise frozen on her face. And then she crumpled into a pile on the floor.

As soon as her chanting ceased, the candles around the bed dimmed and the intense smell of herbs faded. The vines holding Castiel shriveled away. Hissing and clutching his charred arm, he broke from them. I heard Dean’s boots thud heavily onto the floor down the hall.

“Sam? Cas?” he called.

“We’re alright!” Cas answered, limping over to the closest wall and collapsing against it.

Dean stumbled into the room, clutching his side. He winced in pain as his eyes fell on Gertie lying dead. Looking between me and her, I realized why he had an ‘oh shit’ face. She was my ticket to getting changed back. Now that she was dead…

_Crap. _I whimpered.

“It’s okay, Sammy.” He said, coming to my side and patting my head. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took a while. I realized I hated the direction I was going in, so I re-did like thirty pages of the story. But, lesson learned. I am going to write out each part in whole before posting. That's what I did with the first part in Diablo and I think it just works better for me. Anyhoo, because of that I will round out this second part, but I might not update again for a while after that. I will be working on it though!!   
Lots of love! <3


	13. Part Three - Baton Rouge

~ 0 ~

“So, you think Gertie was trying to cure her mom?” I asked, wincing as I sighed too strongly.

Castiel nodded, light on his hand flaring as he healed his burns. “I believe so. The spell was something to do with trading a life for another.”

“Hey, you okay?” I called over to Ivan. He looked a little banged up. Blood trickled from a cut on the back of his head, staining his uniform collar black in the dim light.

Touching the cut with the tips of his fingers, Ivan pulled them away and stared down at the bright red like he was annoyed. Giving me a stern look, he grumbled, “I’ve had worse.”

Hated to admit it, but I kinda liked the guy.

“What about you Sam?” I asked, striding over to him still next to Gertie’s dead body.

He was laying down, looking at the dead druid’s body mournfully.

Castiel, still healing himself called over, “He may be injured. Gertie kicked him.”

Fear shot through my body like a bullet. Instantly I was kneeling, prodding his side experimentally. He whimpered, then snapped at my hand. I yanked my fingers clear just in time. I could tell by the literal puppy-dog look on his face that he didn’t mean to. I shook my head, silently telling him there was nothing to forgive.

“You should get out of here; I’m going to call this in.” Ivan said, groaning as he got to his feet. He went to Castiel who was just finishing up healing and offered a hand to him. I watched closely as the angel took the officer’s hand appreciatively. Once Cas was on his feet, Ivan rubbed at the back of his head and moved to check on the comatose old woman’s vitals.

“Yeah…sure.” I said, glancing between him and Castiel.

Ivan didn’t reply right away. And when he did, he did so with a pointed glare in my direction, “Just look out for Helena until I can make it back.”

“_Okay_…” I muttered sarcastically under my breath, reaching out and scooping up Sam as delicately as possible. “Cas, grab Maggie and let’s go.”

Closing the distance between us, he reached toward me and said, “Let me heal you first.”

His hand hovered over my cracked ribs, asking silently if it was alright. Instantly my mind flashed to my nightmare from last night. And what happened after I woke up. The _cuddling_. I really didn’t want him so close. Couldn’t handle it. I dodged his touch, trying to play it off by adjusting my hold on Sam.

“No time for that.”

I brushed past him, heading to the door and hoping he couldn’t see the look on my face.

We left Officer Uptight to do his job and headed for Helena’s. I carried Sam, worry knotting my stomach as I felt his body shaking with pain. It helped keep my mind off my ribs. I saw Castiel looking at me worriedly, so I tried extra hard to look like it wasn’t bothering me.

To distract him I asked, “What are we gonna do about Sam and Maggie now that we don’t have a druid?”

His brows furrowed in thought.

“We could try and contact Rowena.”

“She’s been a sheet on the wind ever since Chuck and Amara rode off into the sunset together. You think you got an idea where we can find her?”

“No.”

I raised my brow and glanced over at him. He was being serious. His blue eyes, now as bright as gems in the light, flicked up to meet my own.

“Awesome.” I grumbled, quickly looking down at Sam in my arms.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get Sam back to normal.” Cas said, his voice vibrating low in his chest.

I didn’t want to admit it, but it felt good hearing him say that. Comforting. Like he knew for sure and there was no doubt we would get him changed into a human. Since when had he been so self-assured? I mean, he’d always followed Sam and me around. He chose us. But he’d always struggled with finding his own identity. Now though, he was sounding like a person. Not some feathered dick with pre-programed feelings that trailed after us like a lost puppy.

It left me feeling a little confused.

We reached Helena’s house a short while after that. She opened the door, took in our bedraggled appearances, asked with a squeak, “Where’s Ivan?”

“Your boyfriends fine.” I huffed, shouldering my way past her.

“He’s not my –” she blurted, cutting herself off.

I lay Sam down on the ottoman in the living room and backed up so Helena had clear access. Since Cas couldn’t heal Sam with the collar on, I made sure he was her first priority.

Clutching my side, I started for the kitchen and asked, “Got anything stronger than beer?”

Kneeling next to Sam she called over, “Cabinet above the fridge.”

Cas strode over and set Maggie’s unconscious body next to my brother.

“Hey, you think you can try and get those off now that Gertie’s dead?” I asked, pausing in the doorway and nodding to Castiel. When Maggie and Sam were side by side and I saw the runes on their collars I got the idea. “I mean, now that she’s gone, her magic should be weakened right?”

Looking hopeful, Sam tilted his head toward Cas.

As soon as the angel’s fingers touched the leather though, he recoiled in pain.

“Worth a shot.” I grumbled, once again heading to the kitchen, dead set on getting myself a stiff drink, no matter how much it hurt.

Easier said than done, however. As soon as I tried reaching above chest level, pain stopped me short. My breath caught in my chest as a stabbing sensation radiated from my ribs. Grunting, I clutched my side and leant against the fridge while I muscled through the spasms. The soft flutter of fabric from behind told me I wasn’t alone any more. With a glare, I turned and caught sight of Castiel still standing in the doorway.

Just as he was making a move to step toward me, Maggie let out a loud yelp from the next room, clearly panicking at discovering herself in a new environment. He gave me a regretful look before turning back to help Helena with calming her down. I let out a subtle breath and thanked the universe for small graces.

Castiel explained to Maggie that we weren’t the bad guys and that she was safe now. Sam tried communicating with her too, but didn’t seem to be having much luck. It took a while but eventually she calmed down. Well…as much as one could after getting told you were stuck as a dog for the time being.

Helena assessed whether or not Sam seriously needed to be taken to a vet, listening intently to the debrief of the whole situation at the Fraiser house. I noticed her face getting paler and paler with each description of violence and magic.

After some muttered swears and gritting of teeth, I got hold of a bottle of Helena’s whiskey. Gritting my teeth, I sat down with it and downed a shot in one go. Pouring another I sighed and started getting lost in thought. Particularly about everything that had been happening recently. Sam was stuck as a dog and couldn’t annoy me with brother shit. I was still having residual nightmares from what happened in Diablo. And Castiel was…different than he used to be.

I stared down at the amber liquid in the bottom of my glass. My second double in the last twenty minutes. It didn’t give me any helpful answers despite how hard I wished it would.

A solid knock on the door startled me out of my trance. I looked up just as Helena stood and moved to open it. It was Ivan. He looked tired but glad that the crazy ordeal seemed to be over. Helena gathered him up in a sudden hug, squeezing him tightly and burying her face in his shoulder. A deep red blush colored his entire face, making him look like a school boy. A wild departure from the normally uptight officer of the law.

Castiel stood in the corner of the room, watching Sam and Maggie playing like they were real dogs while giving Ivan and Helena their space. He looked lonely.

_Go talk to him._ I urged myself, gently running my finger along the rim of my whiskey glass. We still hadn’t talked about me dying, or becoming a demon, or Amara, or Diablo. There was a lot that hung in the air between us. And it was intimidating. Especially because it felt like he and Sam had grown closer after I went AWOL with Crowley. How and where do I start?

I was just taking another thoughtful sip when I heard one of my other cell phones ringing from my duffle bag up in the guest room. To my surprise, Sam was quick to dash up the stairs in its direction, Maggie following after. I could hear them wrestling with each other briefly before tearing headlong back down the stairs. It was kind of hilarious seeing them acting so carefree. I wondered what they said to her while I was moping to make her embrace her new canine nature so much.

In Sam’s mouth was the phone. He slid in next to me across the tiled floor, panting triumphantly. Drool dripped from the side of his mouth as he hopped up. Trying not to be too grossed out, I plucked the phone from his jaws, ruffled his fur and said with a smirk, “Good boy, Sammy.”

He gave me that sarcastic Sam look of his that was just as recognizable as a dog as it was as a human before huffing and dashing off once again. Wiping the slobber off on my pants, I took a look at the caller ID. Unfamiliar number with a Louisiana area code. Interesting.

“This is Dean.” I answered. Straight to business.

“Finally!” A thickly southern accented voice cried on the other end. “You know how many people’s asses I had to kiss to get your new number, Dean Winchester?!”

“Sorry?” I answered, noticing Cas giving me a questioning look from the other room. I shrugged in response. “Who is this?”

“Maxine. Maxine Byers.” She huffed. Faintly, I could pick up another voice in the background that sounded annoyed. After a moment she continued, “You and I worked that witch doctor case in New Orleans.”

“Right!” Everything clicked. “Maxine! It’s been, what, ten years?”

It was my first solo case without Dad. The one he let me go on just before he went missing and I went to go get Sam from Stanford. I got wind of a witch doctor that was using hoodoo on tourists. Long story short, he’d get their money and then kill them using some pretty nasty magic. Halfway through the case, I ended up running into Maxine. The witch doctor had killed her aunt and she was looking for revenge. She of course wouldn’t sit on the bench like I politely asked her to, and ended up tagging along.

“There abouts,” I could hear the smile in her voice as she let out a breath of relief. “Listen, I’m callin’ in that favor you owe me.”

By now Castiel had detached himself from the others and drifted into the kitchen to listen curiously. I glanced at him before scoffing, “What favor?”

“Or should I say life debt? You know damn well what I’m talkin’ about, Winchester.”

I did. Not like I wanted to admit it though. I may or may not have been slightly stupid and she may or may not have gotten my ass out of a sticky situation.

“What’s going on, Max?” I asked, trying hard to act like I wasn’t amused.

She paused long and hard. It was unusual since she was normally such a chatter box. Finally, she said, “Got a monster ain’t never been seen before. No one I’ve asked is willin’ to help. You’re the only one I got left.”

“Sounds serious.”

“It is. Been movin’ down the eastern seaboard the last few months, leavin’ a trail of bodies. There’s pattern, so I’m headin’ to where I think it’s gonna hit next, but I could really use some back up.”

The same muffled voice from earlier spoke again but I couldn’t make out the words. Didn’t sound like they were too happy about Maxine asking for help.

“Where?”

“Baton Rouge.”

“I can be there in around 48 hours.”

She let out a shaky sigh of relief, “Good. I’ll text you details.”

I hung up and looked over at Castiel who was asking silently, ‘_Case?_’

“That was an old friend,” I explained, knocking back the last of my drink. “Wants some help with some new kind of monster.”

“Okay. When do we –”

“There’s no ‘we’,” I cut him off, “I need you to take care of Sam. I’ve got this one.”

Which was true. But this was also an opportunity to get away and clear my head. Something I hadn’t been able to do in what felt like forever. I think Cas could kind of see through my motivations though.

_God, I’m giving myself whiplash_, I thought to myself, shaking my head. One second, I’m avoiding Cas, the next I’m arguing with myself to talk to him, the next I’m trying to run away.

Annoyance flashed across his face as he countered, “You’re injured, Dean.”

“That’s why I’m going to knock back some pain pills, get some sleep, and bandage up.”

_Sleep isn’t going to fix cracked ribs_, Cas said silently.

Pinching at his brow like speaking to me was physically paining him he said, “I don’t understand why you won’t just let me heal you.”

“Cas –” I started wearily before I was cut off by a soft growl. Looking down, I noticed Sam. He’d slipped in without anyone noticing.

Again, he was giving me that Sam look. The one that even as a dog very clearly said, ‘_Don’t be an ass_.’

Crossing my arms over my chest I asked irritated, “What? _Someone_ needs to look after you _and_ Maggie.”

Looking into the living room, I noticed Helena staring at us with wide, concerned eyes. Gesturing to her I hissed under my breath so only my brother could hear, “Helena’s strung out as it is, I can’t ask her to keep you.”

Sam nudged my side with his wet nose sternly. For a moment I was confused about what he was trying to say. But when I looked down, I noticed the outline of my other, other phone in my pocket. This was the one usually reserved for those I considered to be a part of my inner circle. The people in my life that took top priority. Not many people got this number. I realized then what he was getting at.

“Jodie…” I sighed.

Sam woofed satisfactorily.

He was right. She was a good choice. Not only did she have Claire for extra muscle, but also Alex for extra smarts. Maybe they could help find a way to reverse the druid spell. I wracked my brain for any kind of argument, but came up with nothing.

I groaned, “Fine.”

Sam turned to look at Castiel and the two shared a smug look. I rolled my eyes.

“I’m hitting the sack.” I grumbled. “We’ll leave in four hours.”

Helena looked about ready to melt into a puddle of relief. Shooting to her feet, she met me at the base of the stairs and said, “I just wanted to say thanks. You know, for coming to help and…and everything.”

Glancing over at Ivan sitting stiffly a few feet away I nodded and replied, “It’s what we do.”

She seemed to want to say more, but couldn’t quite figure out how to say it. I could tell though that she was eager for this whole thing to be over and done with so she could get back to her quiet life of cutting up normal dead people.

I went up the stairs, quietly shutting myself in the guest room.

After easing down onto the mattress, I felt the tension slowly ebb from my body. My head pleasantly swam from the alcohol. It was like I was floating away. But sleep didn’t come easily. My ribs were still killing me. I was just thinking of getting up to pop some more pain pills with a whiskey chaser when I heard the latch of the door open. I kept my eyes shut and my breathing even, but I was on high alert.

Footsteps drew near. I was just preparing to reach for my knife when I felt a warmth emanate from a spot above my torso, accompanied by a bright light. Chancing a quick peek, I cracked open one eye and was surprised to see Castiel standing over me. He was concentrating on his task and didn’t notice that I was awake.

After a moment he stopped and whispered in the direction of the floor, “There. Don’t tell him I did that.”

He must be talking to Sam.

Without a word or a touch, he and my brother left. When they were gone, I opened my eyes, staring up at the ceiling as my hand tested my ribs. He’d healed me enough that the sharpness had been taken out of the pain. Like I’d just spent a week in bed resting properly. Now it only ached.

“Damnit…” I mumbled thickly, covering my eyes with my arm as the dreaded prickling started in the corners.

I drifted off to sleep after that. In my dreams I stood in a grassy field. The Impala sat silent behind me. Everything was cast in pale grey light. Ahead of me stood Castiel, looking at me amusedly like he couldn’t quite figure out why it was taking me so long to close the distance between us. Far behind over his shoulder was a wall of fire. As the minutes passed, it loomed closer, but I couldn’t speak. No matter how hard I tried. I couldn’t open my mouth or get my legs to move any faster.

And like clockwork, my eyes opened after four hours passed.

Castiel and Sam were waiting down in the kitchen when I staggered in, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Sam lay on Cas’ lap, head resting comfortably on his knees. When I entered, Sam’s ears perked up and he opened his eyes.

I noticed that Castiel didn’t quite meet my gaze as I came in. Probably wondering if I was going to give him shit for going behind my back and healing me.

Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I asked, “Ready?”

Castiel looked relieved, probably thinking I hadn’t noticed.

Sam hopped down, looking positively elated that he was getting the chance to ride in the car. It really made him seem like a real dog. Maggie, picking up on his excitement, came sprinting out of the living room. The pair danced around the entranceway in front of the door. It was enough to draw a chuckle from me.

“What is it? Little Timmy trapped in the well?” I grinned, reaching over them to the door knob.

Sam’s tail drooped as he turned and gave me a look that said, ‘_That’s not funny_.’

“Oh c’mon, it was a little funny.”

“Children trapped in wells isn’t humorous.” Cas piped up; his brows furrowed with concern.

_C’mon man, I thought Metatron downloaded a bunch of references into your brain. _I grumbled silently, brushing past Sam and Maggie through the door.

We left shortly after, walking through the sleepy streets of Ashland one last time before finally making it to where I’d stashed the Impala. Running my hand along her hood I greeted, “Hey, Baby.”

Castiel decided that riding with me would be the easier option rather than both of us taking separate cars. I tried arguing against it, but in the end didn’t really have anything to back that up. He sat in the passenger seat, quietly gazing out the window as we headed north and east to South Dakota.

It was an uneventful ride. Sam and Maggie both got a kick out of sticking their heads out the open windows. I was happy to oblige. Partly so I could make fun of Sam, and partly so I could air out the smell of dog. After the first 8 hours, I pulled over and handed driving duty to Castiel. First, I called Jodie and explained the situation, then I got comfortable in the back seat and closed my eyes as we coasted along I-25 through Wyoming.

At some point I woke up enough that I noticed healing energy pulsing familiarly through my ribs. Cas had pulled off onto the shoulder so he could reach back to where I lay. I didn’t move or say anything. Pleased with the small bit he accomplished, he waited for Sam to crawl back and curl up with me before pulling back out onto the highway. I shouldn’t be so stubborn about getting help. I knew that. I should thank him. But it was hard.

_Tomorrow_, I told myself, curling around Sam’s small body. _I’ll do it tomorrow._

As we pulled into the driveway, Jodie opened her front door, stepping out with a big smile on her face. To my surprise, Claire was also there. I half expected her to be off doing a case on her own. When I opened my door, Sam and Maggie went spilling out, making a beeline for our extended family members. Jodie looked mildly concerned at the sight of Sam but that wasn’t quite enough to wipe the welcoming smile from her face.

Claire got down on her knees and welcomed the slobbery dog kisses, with a disbelieving smile. As she scratched along Sam’s back, she looked up at Castiel and said, “Hey.”

He smiled nervously.

“You boys want to come in and get some food? Or a drink?” Jodie asked, pulling me in for a hug. “You must be exhausted from the drive.”

“No, I’m uh, I’m actually feeling pretty good. All things considered.” I said, shooting a glance at Castiel. “Besides, we need to head out. Got a case that sounded pretty urgent.”

“Oh, okay. Well, at least let me pack you something.” She said, motioning us into the house. “And you can fill me in more.”

Sam and Maggie were completely distracted by Claire. She’d managed to dig out a worn tennis ball from somewhere and was currently throwing it for them to chase after and compete over in the backyard. It was a little worrisome that he was delving so deep into his newfound canine side, but I couldn’t do much about it. Not with a new case and no idea how to reverse the spell.

Cas and I filled Jodie in on everything that had happened in Ashland. She listened intently, careful not to overlook any detail as she brown-bagged some sandwiches. When all was said and done, she asked, “So, Old French, Gaelic, and a dash of druidic magic, huh?”

I nodded.

“At least there’s no Chemical X.” She commented dryly.

Both Castiel and I gave her the ‘I don’t understand that reference’ face. Blinking she explained, “Powerpuff girls? No? Just me? _Okay_…”

“Thanks again, Jodie.” I said, electing to move the conversation on. “I owe you one. Sam and I both do.”

She waved her hand in a shooing motion, “Any time.”

“It’s what we do.” Claire added as she jogged into the kitchen from the backdoor. I hadn’t even realized she was paying attention.

It was almost exactly what I’d told Helena less than twenty-four hours ago. Shooting the feisty blonde an approving smile I nodded and said, “Right, well, if anything comes up just call.”

“Don’t worry. You just take care of yourself.” Jodie pressed the bag of sandwiches into my hand, leading the way to the front door.

Castiel pressed a hand against Claire’s shoulder before heading out to the car. I stayed back to say goodbye. Sam followed me into the front yard and sat back on his haunches as I knelt next to him. Running the palm of my hand along the top of his head I mumbled, “Take it easy on the kibble, okay? Can’t have you getting too soft around the middle.”

He turned and nipped my hand affectionately before licking it. I ruffled his ears one last time and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll see you again soon. Enjoy your vacation.”

Sam seemed reluctant to let me leave. I could see the unsaid conversation hanging between us. Stuff that we should have talked about before we even made it to Ashland. And worries about what I might find in Louisiana.

He gave me one last lick before trotting back to the house. Jodie and Claire stood in the doorway as we pulled away, waving. Sam sat between their legs, watching intently as we disappeared around the corner. It was surprisingly hard to leave him behind. Especially looking like he did. So small and weak.

Again, Castiel’s voice came as a comfort as he said gently, “Don’t worry. He’ll be fine.”

I nodded, jaw clenched and tight lipped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all are staying safe and healthy out there! I've been busy with finals the last few days self-quarantined in my house, but after tomorrow I can get into some more writing! Going to get more of this story, and my others done!  
I might take a bit to start uploading part three since I haven't written anything down yet. I have it planned out!  
Special thanks to Zee and Ilene Swartz for their wonderful comments!! Both of you lovelies made school a little more bearable!  
<3


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